


Someone You Loved

by apkidd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blood, Captain America - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Forced Prostitution, Happy Ending, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insomnia, M/M, Memory Loss, Not Beta Read, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostitution, Sex Work, Sex Worker Bucky Barnes, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Stucky - Freeform, businessman Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apkidd/pseuds/apkidd
Summary: Steve Rogers is a wealthy philanthropist and the owner of Rogers Inc, an American conglomerate that works closely with Stark Industries.While acquiring a small company, Project Insight, a subsidiary of S.H.I.E.L.D, Steve learns that S.H.I.E.L.D might not be the company he thought it was.After stumbling into a back-room at a party, he finds James Barnes, an escort - or so he seems - in one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s prostitution rings.But Barnes seems familiar, and Steve is sure they met once, many years ago, and the encounter changed his life forever.Can Steve free Bucky from the grips of HYRDA, bring down S.H.I.E.L.D, and protect his business at the same time? Bucky has been bent and broken and Steve wants to help him as much as he can, but can he stop himself falling for him along the way?• NEW CHAPTER EVERY SATURDAY •
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 28
Kudos: 89





	1. One - April 2019

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE HEED THE TAGS AND WARNINGS  
> Some of the tags are for further on in the story. More tags and archive warnings to come as the fic progresses.

Steve was greeted like a king.

He stepped into the ballroom, decked out with elaborately decorated tables, giant blooms of flower arrangements and people everywhere. He was met with applause, some guests even stood, rising from their seats to greet him and shake his hand as he walked by. Friends, old employees, new employees, business contacts, journalists and even politicians. He was handed a glass of champagne by a young waitress who smiled and blushed as he took it off the tray. 

Steve held up his hands as if to signal, _'oh please, stop'_ , but he smiled and laughed and played the part he was so used to seeing his friend Tony play. Tony could walk into a room and own it immediately, Steve on the other hand felt it was all a bit much. He was just a man, a man who had inherited a company from his father who had built it from the ground up and although it had only grown since Steve took over, he still felt like the small thirteen-year-old boy, watching his father do business and having no idea how he did it.

Natasha Romanoff, phone tight in hand was close to his side and they moved through the tables to spot Tony Stark waiting at the bar.

"The man of the hour!" Tony called, opening up his arms to pull Steve into an awkward hug. 

Steve gave a half smile and stepped back to take a sip of his drink. 

"You look great!" Tony winked and Steve just shook his head.

"Congratulations Steve!" Pepper came around Tony to plant a kiss on his cheek and he blushed.

"Thank you Pepper."

"This is truly amazing, great work, the both of you!" And she leaned over to hug Nat too.

It was true, Steve couldn’t have done this without Nat. She was his PA, bodyguard, number two on all business and personal matters, he would truly be lost without her. Although he couldn’t deny the small spark he’d felt when he first met the red-head, now she was like a sister to him.

"Let me get you something expensive, they're serving the cheap stuff." Tony smirked and waved down a bartender, somehow still making eye contact through the sunglasses he was wearing.

"Tony, this is my party."

"Exactly."

Both Pepper and Nat rolled their eyes and moved away to discuss some marketing strategies that Pepper was working with at Stark Industries.

"For real man. I’m proud of you. This was a big risk, but you took it." Steve sipped his champagne again and Tony handed him a glass of scotch. He rolled his eyes.

"I am capable of running a business, just like you."

" _Stark-Rogers Industries_. You sure you don’t want to make it happen?" 

"Hell no."

"Is it the name? _Rogers-Stark_?"

"It’s not the name, Tony."

"Oh come on, we’d have the monopoly." 

Steve shook his head and luckily their conversation was interrupted by a journalist who wanted to ask Tony about some new rumours they had heard about him, probably all true.

Steve’s company technically hadn’t purchased Project Insight yet, it was a new subsidiary of S.H.I.E.L.D. However, the merger and kick off of the new company, along with all their future planning, had gone so well that they threw the party anyway, and it was a chance for Steve to schmooze some more important figures and stay chummy with the shareholders of both Rogers Inc and S.H.I.E.L.D.

Honestly, he hated this stuff, he let Nat run a lot of the money side of things these days, but she had recommended it, because even though they were still in negotiations with S.H.I.E.L.D, it was a sign of good faith that Steve was invested in making the partnership work.

Some of the department heads he recognised came over to greet him and shake his hand, a few of them even called him _Cap_ , a nickname he’d quickly gained as he took over his father’s company, increased the profits by twice in just three years and employed more than 200,000 new American staff members.

Steve's father had built the business from nothing, but with the help of Howard Stark the business really took off, developing new science, both in weapon technology and human health.

The company was then passed down to him. Although his parents had worked endlessly on the business, until he was about ten, the family had been dirt poor.

When Steve took over the business from his parents, he also made it his priority to keep as much of the business as possible in the US. Big companies were outsourcing to developing countries and exploiting their labour. Although Steve knew it wasn’t all bad, he was just a firm believer that if his company was American, the trading, the manufacturing, the developing, all of it should be kept on American soil - or at least as much as possible, to be as environmentally friendly as possible. This way he was also able to lobby for wage reform in the US in his spare time. He wanted to prove that if he could make huge profits, and pay workers fairly while doing it, there was no reason why other conglomerates couldn’t do the same.

And with this passion for the American people, he was quickly dubbed by the press as _Captain America_. Perhaps he wasn’t the world's richest CEO, but he was still very wealthy and he slept a lot better at night.

“Any plans on running for office Mr Rogers?” The journalist was now asking him and he laughed and shook his head.

“Please, excuse me,” He smiled and made his way over to Nat.

Once he had asked her to point him in the direction of the best people to charm he set about shaking more hands and making jokes, discussing stock markets and share prices, and setting up games of golf. He had arrived after the sit down meal for a reason, and although the band was incredible, he really just wanted to get in and out.

He was a people person, he loved connecting with individuals one on one, and he was a natural leader. But the longer he did these things, the more he talked about people’s husbands and wives and children and pets, the more he knew he was going home alone. He wasn’t the young man who used to go out and make havoc with Tony Stark anymore. He was twenty-nine and the lonelier he felt, the more he just wanted to be alone, at least that way he could work and do something worthwhile.

*

As the night grew on and the crowd thinned, Steve realised he’d had a few more drinks than anticipated and stepped out of the function room for some fresh air. 

He moved down a corridor, through a set of doors to another corridor, down a set of stairs, _how big could this hotel be?_ And finally through a set of doors which he quickly realised was not the way out.

He’d hardly noticed the huge bouncer that nodded his way and opened the door for him, he just smiled and stepped into the dark room that looked like a club. But there were no flashing lights, just dim bulbs that hung over private booths separated by walls. There was a group of couches in the middle and a few people he recognised from earlier were sat drinking, laughing and folding notes into the thongs of young girls who danced around them wearing nothing else. 

Steve went to turn away, confused, but a man stood beside him.

He looked down to see Alexander Pierce, the head of Project Insight and a senior official at S.H.I.E.L.D grinning up at him.

“You found the afterparty then?” He smirked and led Steve over to the bar.

Steve quickly sobered, and looked back again at the strippers dotted throughout the room and in the booths. Some were most certainly not just stripping, and luckily the music was loud and drowned out most of the noise.

Their eyes all looked dead, probably drunk Steve thought, or drugged. He was horrified that he had somehow ended up here, but he could hardly make a scene in front of Mr Pierce, he was in the process of trying to buy one of his companies and they were partners now.

He would have to say nothing. Play along until he could leave and then figure out what exactly Pierce was doing. It was New York, he remembered, these kinds of places existed. But he couldn’t stop the sick feeling that he had just stepped into something so much worse.

Alexander passed Steve a drink and he swallowed, giving a tight smile, trying to look relaxed and not at all disgusted. Sex work was still work and he had no right to judge.

“To our new venture.” Alexander said and held up his glass. 

Steve brought his forward to clink, nodded and took a sip, hoping it would steady his somehow shaken nerves.

“That Romanoff girl of yours is quite the exec,” He grinned, and Steve swallowed back his annoyance over the way he called her _girl_. “Her projection analysis was quite thorough… easy on the eye too,” He chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

Steve forced a grin that he hoped passed for agreement and understanding of the joke. He didn’t remember Mr Pierce being this tasteless the few times they had met. Granted it was always in a boardroom and never in a dingy hotel back room. 

Something across the room caught his eye, two loud, clumsy men in suits that Steve didn’t recognise were taunting a dark haired man in nothing but a thong. The man was gently writhing up against one of the men, his ass almost on full display to Steve and the other man was spanking him, a little too hard to be playful.

Suddenly the man pushed him off and he fell to the floor. Steve looked away, embarrassed.

“We’re all friends here,” Alexander gave that devil smile again and Steve schooled his expression. “See anyone you like?” 

Steve looked back out around him, his eyes glancing over the booths, but they came back to the man, who was now sat on the other man’s lap and being forced to drink champagne from the bottle, his free and only arm, Steve realised, was pinned behind his back. He wore a collar and the man held the leash tightly. 

The man gulped but champagne still dripped over his chin and down his muscular chest. His hair was long and hung in dark curtains around his face but as the man took the bottle away and the brunette’s face fell forward a little, he shook the hair out of his eyes.

Suddenly, Steve recognised him. 

Although the memory was so deep in the back of his mind, he couldn’t deny that he knew the features. He was aged, his jaw wide, his eyes heaver, but they were still the same eyes, the cheekbones… the lips. 

As Steve took in the sight of him he also realised he had a cut on his eyebrow and some blood was smudged over his temple. His body looked sweaty but also shiny, probably not only with champagne but other drinks. His ribs and thighs were peppered with bruises. As he began to grind on the man again, the other moved to choke him, using both the collar and his hand around the man's throat. He moved faster and they laughed, and then Steve noticed the small trail of dark liquid that ran down the inside of his thigh. The man spanked his ass again and he winced a little. Too dark to be anything but blood.

Again Steve felt sick. He recognised him, he was sure of it. They had met briefly, in his childhood, but _Bucky_ \- yes, his name, or nickname, had been Bucky - left the deep imprint of a memory that he often returned to late at night. 

He had to stop it. Even if it wasn’t the boy he thought he knew, it was vulgar and barbaric. But he couldn’t react, he was playing a different game now. This was who he was doing business with and he couldn’t just call the police without also incriminating himself. He hated how selfish he sounded, but he was the CEO of one of America’s biggest companies, so many people relied on him for their livelihoods and if this man wanted to make his money by letting drunk jerks touch him up then it was a free country.

The dark pit that had formed in his stomach tried to warn him otherwise. The man was on a leash, his eyes heavy like he had been roofied… was he actually letting them?

Steve took another sip of his drink, calculating how best to approach this. Finally, he forced another fake smile.

“Interested in James?” Alexander asked.

James? _James_. That sounded familiar. He had a good memory he thought, especially when he was younger and would read book after book and surmise them for his mother. She would always be so pleased and entertained by how much he could recall. He searched his memory. James, Bucky, both names swam around his mind. 

“I didn’t peg him as your type,” Alexander said. 

“I like to keep my private life very private.” Steve smirked, disgusted in himself but determined to do whatever it took to get Bu- James out of here. 

But it wasn’t a lie, almost no one knew about the short intimate relationship he’d had with Tony before deciding they were better as friends, and the other women he’d shared a small amount of dates with. In reality, Steve was really quite inexperienced in this area. 

“How much for a night?”

Alexander just shook his head, “You’re one of The Project now. For you, no charge.”

One of the men now had Bucky on all fours, forcing him to lick up the drink he was pouring on the floor like a dog, tugging at the lead.

Alexander handed Steve a card with just a phone number on it. 

“For when you’re done.” He explained. “Be careful, he’s a feisty one.”

Steve got the sense he already knew this and gave Alexander a wicked grin that was mostly fake. 

He pocketed the card and quickly shot Nat a blunt text with his whereabouts, what little he knew about it, only that it was on the floor below. _Have a car ready_ , it also said. 

He finished his drink, shook Alexander’s hand and made his way over to James. 

*

When Steve approached the men, they all stopped moving.

James kept his face down, his matted hair falling over his eyes. The other two men looked up at Steve, at first confused, and then embarrassed, realising who he was. They glanced at one another and Steve held out his hand toward the man that held the leash.

The man looked down at the open palm, narrowed his eyebrows and then handed it over. They gave Steve an awkward smile, as if Steve had just caught them sitting in his seat accidentally, almost apologetic. 

Steve pulled on the lead as gently as he could. He didn’t want to pull James, but he wanted to get his attention and he didn’t want to give his motives away to all of the people who were doubtlessly watching.

James looked up at the gentle tug, his wide, dead eyes found Steve's. Then his eyes followed the length of the leash to Steve’s hand and stood.

He swayed a little, his eyes seemed to regain focus and he looked angry, sad even but then they glazed over again and he gave Steve a strange half smile, before Steve pulled the leash again gently, indicating that he should walk toward him.

Steve hated it, the way he saw rage, flit for a moment across James’s face, then quickly die. He wanted James to fight him, to fight the men, Steve would join him. Shout, throw a punch, anything, but the poor man just gave over to what was happening. It made Steve even more angry, pissed that a person could let this happen to themselves, but Steve knew James had his reasons, and if he didn’t endure, even worse might happen to him? Once again, Steve just wanted to pull the man into his arms, unsure if he was even the boy he remembered, even then it didn't matter. Steve needed to get James out.

The man was hesitant, but then he stepped forward to stand in front of Steve. Steve then slipped an arm around his waist, trying to look more possessive than caring. Steve faked another ugly smile at Pierce before guiding James towards the door.

James’s feet were unsteady and Steve had to pull him closer, ensuring he didn’t fall over. He gave a little giggle and Steve ignored it, just focused on getting out of the searing eyes that were watching them and finally they were through the door.

Natasha was already waiting for him out in the corridor, a little breathless, she must have just arrived. How she found Steve he had no clue but that’s why they made such a great team. 

When the door fell shut behind them, Steve wrapped Bucky’s arm around his shoulder.

Nat’s eyes were wide and Steve just said nothing, leading her and Bucky to another small corridor out of view of the bouncer and any other visitors that might notice or recognise them.

James seemed less coherent now, his head dropped and his feet hardly moved beneath him. They were at the bottom of a stairwell and Steve sat him down.

“What the hell Rogers?” Nat asked, in a hushed voice.

“Did you get a car ready?”

“Waiting in the lot.”

Steve nodded and pulled his coat from her arms, putting it around James to cover him. 

“Do we know this man?” She asked. 

“Maybe. Which way?” Steve answered bluntly.

Steve put one arm under James’s knees and the other around his back and lifted. 

Instinctively James wrapped his one arm around Steve’s neck and laughed almost manically.

They carried him quickly down to a back exit where a car awaited them in the parking lot, parked perfectly within a few steps, of the stairwell. Nat guided them to it and they piled in. 

“To the hospital?” She asked, clearly taking in the state in which James looked.

Steve badly wanted to but he shook his head. “Mine. Then we’ll call a doctor. Discreetly.”

Steve knew he wasn’t making the right decisions, which to him were always the most moral ones, but a small part of him worried about his company, what he’d brought upon himself.

If people found out he had somehow invested in prostitution, and not just above board sex work, but dirty prostitution no less, his business would take a hit which he knew he could handle personally, but they didn’t just have employees that depended on him, but the pharmaceutical branch of the company was seriously making huge strides in medical research, building on what his father had worked on with Howard Stark and Abraham Erskine.

Nat sat opposite them in a seat facing backward and James rested up against Steve.

Nat told the driver to go and Steve realised he still had his hand tightly gripped around Bucky’s shoulder but he didn't let go. 

“Am I yours now?” James slurred into Steve’s neck.

“No.”

“Why not? You’re very handsome, _Mr_ …” James waited. His chin was rested on Steve’s shoulder and his eyes looked up at Steve’s face, clearly coming around enough to form sentences. He smelled of smoke and champagne. 

Steve shared a look with Nat who kept running her eyes over the little skin of James she could see, the blood, the bruises, a harried expression on her face. Then she would look at Steve, eyes wide and he would just shake his head, suggesting he would explain later.

“Mr…” James repeated, slow and sexy.

Steve didn’t like how good it sounded. He cleared his throat and looked away from where his eyes had landed on Bucky’s lips, swollen from being force-fed so much champagne and anything else Steve didn’t want to think about.

Steve didn’t answer and James didn't say anything more. Just closed his pale grey eyes and laid all his weight on Steve.

Those eyes… _Is it you?_ Steve thought… _I waited for you…_ But that was so long ago now. 

When they arrived, Steve carried James again, into the elevator and up to his penthouse apartment, Nat at his side.

Without thinking, Steve went directly into his room and laid James down on the bed. Steve wanted to clean him up, to speak with him, but he was clearly exhausted.

For a moment his eyes opened and he began to look around, unsure of where he was in the shadows, the small amount of light from the hallway coming in and bathing Steve in a soft glow. 

He looked panicked, but then Steve reached out a hand and gently ran it over his hair.

“It’s ok, Bucky…” Steve said, forgetting for a moment. 

“Who’s Bucky?” The man mumbled.

“It’s… it’s ok James, you’re safe, you’re safe, sleep.”

With no further thought, or urge to fight, James’s face relaxed and he laid back down again against the pillow, closing his eyes.

He was still somewhat wrapped in the coat and Steve pulled a thick blanket over him, his favourite knitted cashmere. Then he left the room to go speak to Nat.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I’ll take the guest bed. We won't be able to get a doctor out until morning I imagine.”

Steve nodded.

“Is he ok?”

“I don’t know…” Steve said, running a hand over his neck. "He looks pretty beaten up, but the blood is all dry…”

Nat gave a curt nod in return.

“I’ll… explain tomorrow.” Steve said. 

“Sure boss.” Nat said, nodded again and moved down the hall to get some sleep.

Steve sighed. Bucky was in his bed, Nat took the guest room. He figured he could take the couch… the thing was huge and so comfy. But he was so worried about Bucky… no, _James_ , he corrected himself. He couldn’t be sure yet.

He found his feet moving to the kitchen, he filled up two glasses of water and took them to the bedroom. Then, without even putting much thought into it, he took off his shoes and laid down on the other side of the bed. 

He stared up at the ceiling, unsure if he would sleep and tried not to watch the man next to him, wrapped up and somehow still looking cosy. 

He had so many questions, worries about Project Insight and what S.H.I.E.L.D was involved in, and now by extension, him. But he looked over at James’s bruised face, and the rest seemed to fade away. 

_Had Steve finally found him? After all this time?_

He wanted to stay awake and think but Steve but let his eyes close and drifted to sleep.


	2. Two - April 2019

James woke with a start. 

Clear your mind, he told himself, push it down. Forget. 

Images of Schmidt and Zola flooded his mind, their dark faces, the pain of a blade slicing through his flesh, of electricity coursing through him. Then hands, the smell of sweat and blood and come, the feel of something inside him, rough and painful. He shook his head as if to shake away the thoughts and opened his eyes to find something tangible, to focus on it. 

His hands balled into fists around the soft heavy blanket that encompassed his body. He sat up. 

Memories from the night before seeped in. The hotel, a private party, a back room within a back room, dark with a group of men, stripping him down and taking turns with his mouth, his ass, pulling aggressively at his limp cock and asking why he wasn’t enjoying it. A spank, a slap. Clear your mind, push it down- but then… champagne, a pair of bright blue eyes, familiar somehow, a strong arm guiding him away. 

He looked down again at the warm blanket, a light cream colour, so soft under his fingers. James looked around the room. He was on a giant bed, wider than any he’d ever seen before. Who needed a bed this big?

About two feet away, a sleeping body laid curled up on the sheet, his body facing toward James, his head only slightly on the pillow. 

James looked around at the huge bedroom full of drawers and a wardrobe and two doors, one he assumed that led to an en suite. On the beside was a large lamp, it’s wooden frame and cotton like shade in keeping with the soft, minimalist decor of the room. There was a large glass of water and he reached out, without thought, his mouth suddenly so dry and his head aching a little. 

Who was this man? He hadn’t introduced himself as far as James could remember. That face though, those blue eyes and naturally pouting pink lips… why did they stir a memory in him? A memory from a time he wasn’t even sure existed. A time before HYDRA. 

But that couldn’t be possible. James could only remember HYDRA, the offer of a place to live in return for other things, quickly realising he had made a mistake but he was young. Too young to figure out how to get out. All he had known back then was rage. Rage and pain. 

But the memory was painless. Untainted, calm. There was really nothing he could recall but a feeling… a trust almost… in something shared…

His mind must have been playing tricks on him again. Probably the reminiscence of a dream, still lingering on his mind, a fantasy he could never have. 

The man was huge, bigger than James, his thick blond hair was dishevelled. He was young too and in such good shape it seemed, James almost shuddered. If this man wanted to have his way with James, he would be powerless to stop him… and who knows how long it would go on for. He finished the rest of his water and put it back on the side table. 

How had he even got here? He had to try harder not to let people force alcohol and drugs down his throat. He used to fight it when he was younger, but now a small part of him is fine with it, it made it easier, the pain, the humiliation. Almost as if it never happened, just the evidence of bruises or blood or a pain inside him to give any indication of what might have happened. It made it easier to forget some of the disgusting things people did to him. Without thought, he groaned a little. 

This roused the sleeping man, who began to sit up and rub his eyes. James stared at him as he moved, determined not to let him out of his sight, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this guy would be one of the better ones. But who was he kidding? They all paid for one thing and one thing only, and they would always get it, whether James wanted to or not. 

He forced himself to behave. To remember that the client was always right and if he just agreed and played along it usually all went by so much smoother. 

The man’s expression was blank, he took in James and then sat up to turn and face him. 

"Good morning. I’m Steve. Can you remember last night?"

James kept his mouth shut and shrugged. 

The man got up and quickly moved away, probably disgusted, James guessed. They would fuck him and touch him but they were all, almost always, disgusted in him. 

But then Steve wasn't moving away, he was coming to sit beside him, on the other side of the bed. 

James swallowed. Steve was wearing a crumpled up shirt, presumably from yesterday and suit trousers. He was handsome, James couldn't deny it. And in his usual routine, James reached out to unbutton the shirt slowly, holding Steve’s gaze. Even with one hand, he was graceful, he’d had a lot of practice at it. 

Steve was confused. His brows furrowed and for a moment, Bucky- James- the man's shimmering grey eyes pulled him in. But then he gestured for James to stop, and his hand fell away. 

Steve realised the man was still wearing that black leather collar and lifted his hands slowly to unbuckle it. James looked a little weary but he closed his eyes and resolved himself back to a dead expression that Steve recognised from the night before. 

When the collar was unfastened and quickly discarded on the floor, Steve inspected the cut on James’s eyebrow. It was small and scabby now and James did nothing but look down at the space between them. 

Steve was certain it was him. The boy from his childhood, the stranger he met so briefly, only to never see again. Steve knew he looked different, much, much bigger, but his features were all the same. His face, he was glad, had retained some of its youthful innocence, without the gaunt cheeks of unhealthiness. 

"Do you remember me?"

"A little…" James said, and Steve couldn’t help but let his heart soar, then James said, "You took me home last night?"

Steve sighed but it was true. 

"Yes. May I ask your name?"

He seemed almost… shy? No, James thought, a man with his looks and body would never be shy… James gave his best innocent expression. "Anything you want it to be," James said.

Steve shook his head and asked again. 

James was reluctant but finally said, "James… but you called me Bucky last night. I can be Bucky if that’s what you want." 

Again, Steve shook his head, almost pained. 

James was confused. Did this Steve guy want him to be someone called Bucky? Was it an ex maybe? A fantasy? James just stayed quiet, sure Steve would explain what he wanted eventually, they all did. 

Steve then stood, pulled his phone out of his pocket, only at 5% battery now, he noticed… he was always forgetting to charge the stupid thing, he hated using it and often forgot to even take it with him when he left the house sometimes. 

He immediately dialled Nat. 

"Morning boss."

"Nat, good morning, you up?" Steve had also seen that the time was around 10:30am. 

"Of course."

"Can you bring us some breakfast?"

"Of course." She said again. And before he could ask, added, "A doctor is on the way."

"Thank you." He said and put the phone down, unable to stop himself feeling rude while James sat and waited for him to wrap up the conversation. 

"How do you feel? Would you like to take a shower?" Steve asked. 

"Is that what you want?"

Steve tried not to let out another sigh. He couldn’t help but feel infuriated. Not at James, of course, but whoever it was that turned him into this robot. 

James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky... He had asked Steve to call him Bucky. The name was clear in Steve’s mind now. Along with a boy, taller than him, a smirking half smile on his lips and dark shaggy hair. But that couldn’t be him now? Could it?

His hair was still dark, but longer, falling around his eyes. And that boy, the one Steve remembered, wouldn’t have done anything except what he wanted. 

Steve couldn’t help it, he reached out to push a strand of that dark hair out of Bucky’s eyes. But before he was able to, Bucky grabbed his wrist in the air to stop him. 

Then his eyes found Steve, he realised what he’d done and let go, looking back down at his lap, steeling his expression again. 

Steve dropped his hand, the moment of fear and then shame on James's face tugging at his throat again. Just for a second, Steve had seen it, like he remembered, a flash of that fight within the man, but then it had died. 

At this, Steve felt distraught, pained, then mostly furious. He couldn’t be sure what James and Alexander Piece were involved in but he had lost this man once already, and it was not going to happen again. 

"The bathroom is that door." Steve gestured and James nodded. But just as his feet found the floor, he seemed to have trouble standing, falling forward almost. 

Steve immediately caught him in his arms, their bodies close, and guided James back to the bed. Clearly there was something still in his system. 

"Maybe some food first." Steve said and he went to find James a t-shirt, the first one his fingers touched in the drawer. It was a little too big for him but anything to stop Steve’s eyes from wanting to wander down to the man’s chest. 

As much as Steve knew this wasn’t still the same boy he remembered, he couldn’t help remembering the way he had felt around him all those years ago, and those feelings threatened to have him climbing onto James, pulling him tightly into his arms and keeping him safe, holding him close and wanting, so badly just to be close to him.

He also went into the bathroom himself and refilled James's glass, passing it to the now half dressed man who still had Steve’s blanket bundled up over his legs. James’s eyes followed him wherever he moved. 

"I think I remember you now," he said quietly, and Steve tried not to smile. "Not just from last night…"

Steve sat back down on the bed to watch the man sip the water, his long fingers around the glass, his skin a little more pale than the olive complexion Steve remembered. 

"You do?"

"You’re Steve Rogers."

"I am." Steve gave a slow nod. 

"CEO of Rogers Inc… Captain America…" James trailed off quietly. 

Steve felt defeated again. 

"That’s what they call me."

"I remember watching some special on you." James said, as if remembering was coming at the same time he spoke.

He had in fact been flicking through the channels while a client napped, when for some reason Steve Rogers caught his interest. A wealthy businessman, who worked hard to keep his company fairer than most, who spent his free time giving to charities and petitioning politicians for reform on the legal minimum wage and the costs of healthcare and the environmental impacts corporations were having on climate change. James imagined what it would be like to have a boss like that… It was a nice distraction from the pain in his backside where a regular client of his had taken James from behind with almost no preparation whatsoever. James often wondered how these men did it. If it hurt him, it must have hurt them too? But maybe that’s why they did it. They liked the pain, inflicting it, feeling it. James shook the thoughts away as as soon as his client was awake it would probably happen again and James's face would be pressed hard into the pillows again where no one could hear his cries.

"Yeah you…" James continued "you were one of the youngest CEOs ever… when you took over the company from your dad… right?"

"Yes." Steve confirms. 

But something confused James. Why would Captain America pay for sex? Why would Mr USA, Mr Morality, acquire a company like S.H.I.E.L.D? James wasn’t certain on the ins and outs of it all but did Steve know what HYDRA did? What Project Insight actually was?

A dark feeling settled in James's stomach then… _No_ … he didn’t want to believe that those blue eyes, that shy smile… this man sat in front of him asking how he was... That man… James didn’t want to believe it. But a part of him thought it must be true. Maybe Steve Rogers was just like all the rest. He’d had so many clients over the years that had been civil to him, kind even, but then they all showed their true intentions eventually. 

James wanted to ask. Suddenly to speak out and say, _No. No. Not you too?_ But he was interrupted. 

There was a knock on the bedroom door and James's eyes grew wide. He couldn’t help but suddenly feel fearful then.

Steve, obviously noticing this said, "It’ll just be Nat, with breakfast…" and Steve got up to go to the door, which didn’t open enough for James to see who was behind it, but then Steve came back to the bed with a huge tray piled with things that smelled incredible.

James’s stomach grumbled and Steve gave a warm smile as he set the huge tray down on the bed.

"Help yourself." He said to James.

James almost glared at him, and Steve wanted to laugh.

"Well," Steve began, perching himself on the other side of the bed now, almost at the opposite corner to James, "The oatmeal is mine but, everything else is yours. You want coffee? Tea?"

James looked down at the tray between them, there was a plate of bacon, eggs and some kind of omelette full of vegetables, on another plate was pancakes with a little jug of syrup. There was a pile of fruit, pastries, a bowl of oatmeal like Steve mentioned, topped with syrup and fresh berries. Toast, empty mugs, a teapot, two steaming cups of black coffee, milk on the side and sugar and preserves of jam and marmalades alongside some toast and it was overwhelming, like nothing James had ever seen before.

Sure, some clients who kept him for a night or two or a weekend would order him room service but never like this… and back at HYDRA... well he was lucky he got three healthy meals a day there. It was a surprise to him sometimes how he was even able to build any muscle at all. 

Finally, after another nod from Steve and a cry from his stomach, James started on the small feast.

They ate like that, in bed and James was obviously starving as Steve watched him finish the eggs and bacon, the side of pancakes and toast. He even eyed up Steve’s unfinished oatmeal. Steve offered it to him but he shook his head and looked away embarrassed. He finished a coffee and Steve poured him a tea. He drank most of that and some juice along with the rest of his water. The sudden amount of rich food almost brought him out in a sweat.

But all of it just put Steve off his food more. Had the man really never enjoyed such a breakfast? It was a lot of food, Steve didn’t deny it, but nothing short of what any person might find at a hotel buffet. It wasn’t necessarily luxurious, there was just a lot of variety. He forced his coffee down, a few more mouthfuls of oatmeal and some of the fruit that James was clearly uninterested in. 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. The whole situation reminded him far too much of the last time he had seen James, over ten years ago, but how could Steve’s life be so different, and yet James’s almost the same? 

Steve felt stronger than ever in his resolve that he wanted James to eat like this everyday.

"You really don’t remember the last time we met?"

James paused his chewing, shook his head. He had really met Steve before? He must have been so out of it, but Steve hadn’t plied him with drugs and alcohol last night, he couldn’t imagine him doing it before. 

“Steve Rogers. You really don’t remember me?”

Bucky shook his head. 

"I was…" Steve hesitated, "We were young. But I… I still remember you…"

James felt bad. Young? They had met when they were young? James thought again about that feeling, those blue eyes, pink lips… stirring something…

James shook his head and Steve’s face fell a little.

There was nothing. As hard as he tried, James couldn’t place anything, just a warm, safe, sensation that was quickly cut off by HYDRA.

Was that Steve? James searched his face… was he the warmth he remembered when he tried to recall the time before his cell, the clients, the loss of his arm. No. Steve was just a client. Another in the long line of people who wanted to take and take from him, until one day there would be nothing left.

"I can pretend. Pretend I know you, that we're friends or..." James's eyes flickered to Steve's lips then chest then away, "More? I can be whoever you want."

Steve sighed and luckily there was another gentle tap at the door and Steve got up. James’s eyes grew wide again, as if scared of the uncertainty, but then he looked back down like a scalded dog. 

Steve opened it just enough to see out. 

"Doctor is here." Nat said, "I told her we found James out in the street."

Steve nodded, understanding. 

"Just give us a minute."

Steve closed the door and turned back to see James watching him expectantly. James's expression was blank.

"It’s just a Doctor. Would you let her examine you?"

James looked away, unsure but then nodded.

Steve left James alone with the Doctor and when she finally emerged she explained that James's injuries were mostly surface level, a few cuts and bruises that she was able to clean and that she had discussed the more intimate injuries with James and he understood and seemed accustomed to deal with these often.

This made Steve feel a little unwell but he shook the thought away and asked the doctor if there was anything they could do.

"He needs rest, is all. He’s taking a shower. I've taken some bloods and swabs and I'll run then for the usual STIs." She said and Nat saw her out after they had thanked her and Steve sat down heavily in the lounge.

Nat came back in to join him and the pair sat quietly together until James emerged, hair damp but looking better, wearing the shirt Steve had given him and a towel around his waist. He seemed to wait as if for an order or task, looking at Steve expectantly.

Steve led James back into the bedroom and found him some more clothes.

James looked down at the garments in his hand, his eyebrows narrowed. 

"I cleaned myself up for you…" He said quietly but Steve just shook his head and put the clothes down. 

A little exasperated he mumbled that he needed a shower and went into the bathroom himself to clean off the morning and day before.

He took a deep breath, turning on the faucet and gently rolling his muscles. The water was soothing, just what he needed to make sense of the thoughts clouding his mind, the faint memories, the swimming fears about James and his company and what exactly he was going to do… and then that voice. He groaned inwardly at how upsetting the situation was and yet his memories of James and the man that stood before him, combined with how good he looked, even bruised, made Steve feel even more guilty for almost enjoying the way the words, _I cleaned myself up for you…_ sounded on his lips.

Distracted by the running water and the confusion about what to do with Bucky… _James_ … Steve barely noticed the feel of a body pressing up against him. 

Then he opened his eyes, and the large hand on his hip scared the shit out of him.

“Jesus, James!” Steve shouted and stepped back quickly, out of the water and up against the tiles. James had followed him, his hand coming up to touch Steve’s chest. 

"I’m Bucky? Remember? You can call me that, I don’t mind."

Steve shook his head and moved to the side again, to get away from the strong hand against him. 

"James," Steve's voice broke and he forced his eyes not to roam over the man's chest, his abs, the v of his hips and... No. _No_. This was so wrong. He reached to turn off the faucet behind James who took the move as another come-on and promptly moved his face to line up with Steve’s, their lips almost brushing before Steve jerked, shutting off the water and stepping back again. 

"It’s ok…" James said, sinking down to his knees, his face inches from Steve’s dick. "I’m yours now," his hand ran up Steve’s thigh and he almost felt lightheaded, "Let me obey." And just as James leaned forward Steve stumbled to the side, almost tripping over his own feet and hitting the shower door as he opened it and grabbed for a robe to cover himself. As much as he wanted to badly to deny it, the firm hand on his body and James coming onto him had started to make the blood rush to his groin. 

When he turned back James was still on his knees, shoulders hunched and head bowed in defeat. 

"Please," Steve said, picking up another large towel. He wrapped it around James’s shoulders. "You don’t have to do that."

James looked up then, his face only inches from Steve’s again, his eyes red and watery. 

"Yes. I do. If I don’t…" he looked away, fearful. "Why am I here?" He whispered before slowly looking back at Steve. "Just tell me what you want."

"I…" Steve could hardly speak. The knot in his throat threatened to choke him on every breath. He sighed. It became very clear to him then that whatever they’d put in James’s head was controlling him. Fear, the threat of pain or emotional manipulation, he was petrified. 

James sighed. He had to do a good job. If this Steve guy sent him back without being satisfied, James would be punished for sure. He didn’t want to look pathetic, as caring as this client seemed, they were all the same. They just wanted to use his body and throw him away. And who was he to fight? He was trash, a lowlife, scum. At least this way he was fed and didn’t have to sleep on the street. All he had to do was take it… Steve wasn’t even ugly or violent, like so many of the others. It would suck but he’d had so much worse. He needed to be good, he needed to satisfy, he couldn’t face another round of beatings or tasings or even worse… losing his other arm. 

James didn’t want to displease Steve or make him mad, but he spat "You’re paying for it? Aren’t you?" 

Steve backed away, visibly offended, hurt. But not just at the suggestion, but because there was truth in it. He felt sick again. The few spoonfuls of oatmeal and coffee threatened to rise up his gullet. 

What could he do? Perhaps the only thing James could understand, and he stood to tower over James. 

"Stand up." Steve said, his voice firm. 

James was a little taken aback, his eyes widened for a moment, but then he did as he was told. He stood up, facing Steve. 

"Dry yourself, then come back into the bedroom." Steve’s face gave nothing away now, it broke a little part of him to do it, but if this was how he got James to understand, it was what he would do. 

Steve walked into the bedroom himself and quickly pulled on underwear, jeans and a sweater, ignoring the slight discomfort of already being somewhat damp. 

Finally James joined him, standing again with the towel around his waist. 

"Put those clothes on," Steve pointed at the pile on the bed he’d left there before going to take his own shower and picked up a comb from his drawers. "Use this," he pressed the comb into James’s hand then said "Meet me out here when you’re done."

James nodded and Steve left the room. 

*

Steve sat uncomfortably on the couch opposite Nat who was deep into her phone. 

"What’s going on?" She asked him, her eyes flitting up briefly to fall on a clothed and showered but still very dishevelled Steve. "Who is he?" Nat asked. 

Steve was silent. 

"You haven’t brought home a hooker in years so he must be someone."

"I… knew him… I think."

"You think?"

"He doesn’t remember."

She shook her head. "I called the number." She held up the card Alexander had given him last night. 

"And?"

"Some kind of escort service named HYDRA."

"HYDRA?" Steve asked. Why did that sound so familiar? 

Then Nat put her phone down and looked up properly, James was walking toward them. His hair was now neatly combed and away from his face, he wore the sweats and black t-shirt. He wrapped his arm around himself and waited awkwardly. James looked from the red-head back to Steve. He felt he was remembering her from last night. Maybe this was why Steve wouldn’t touch him, maybe they were together and it was a threesome thing they wanted. 

But he couldn’t help but gravitate towards Steve’s warm presence, she was beautiful by all modern standards but her gaze was a little off-putting, almost severe, like she might eat him alive. 

"Please take a seat." Steve gestured at the armchair beside him. 

James nodded and sat down. 

"I’m going to call you Bucky." Steve announced. "Not because that’s what I prefer. But because that’s what you asked me to call you, the last time we met."

Steve continued.

"This is Natasha-"

"Just Nat," she cut in. 

"She’s my number two. You can trust her with anything, questions, food, clothes-"

"Money," she cut in again, "whatever you need, I’m your girl."

"You can continue to sleep in my bed if you’d like. Or you can take the guest bed. Or I’ll take it, it doesn’t matter."

"Can you tell me your full name?" Nat had pulled a laptop onto her lap and opened it.

"What?" Bucky stuttered. What was happening? They were both taking so fast. He could go to her if he needed things? He could take the guest bed? He shook his head and frowned. 

Steve and Nat shared a concerned look. 

"What’s going on?"

Steve sighed. 

"Bucky…" he wanted to ask James again if it would be ok to call him that but he knew he would agree with it regardless. "You’re a… sex worker… correct."

That was the nicest way anyone had ever put it but he nodded. 

"You work for HYDRA?"

"HYDRA are who found me. Took me in. Gave me this job."

"Do you have… a pimp?" Nat asked, with a forced frown. 

He shook his head. "There’s just Crossbones... He takes me to my clients, brings us our food."

"Us?" Steve asked

Maybe Bucky had said too much, his eyes began to dart about. Why was Steve asking this? He was at the party last night, he was talking with Alexander Pierce, surely he knew about HYDRA and what they did. 

"The people in my," Bucky hesitated. "Room." 

"Are you…? Do you…?" Steve frowned and gave Nat a look, as if searching her face for words. 

She took over, always far more level-headed than Steve. 

"Bucky do you have your own place? Somewhere we can take you home?"

He shook his head. "Call HYDRA. Someone will come and get me."

"But do you have a home?"

He shook his head again. 

"You live with other people? Other sex workers."

He nodded. 

Steve couldn’t help himself, he had to ask. "Are you being held there against your will?" He tried to keep his tone steady, without anger. 

Bucky said nothing, just looked down and wrapped his arm up over his shoulder as if he was cold. Did he shiver a little? Steve felt the urge to hold him, wrap his arms around him and carry him back to bed. He looked so uncomfortable and ashamed, even though his manner was robot like, a death stare aimed down at the ground. 

"Answer me." Steve said. 

"It’s not that simple." Bucky said, almost in a whisper and Steve immediately stood, bringing his hands up to run through his hair. 

What had he done? What was HYDRA? He began to get that sick feeling again, the one from before. Had he really got himself involved in… he didn’t want to say it. 

Immediately he was walking back to the bedroom. "Nat call Sam," 

"On it." She stood and left to go into the kitchen. 

Steve returned from the bedroom a thick black hoodie in hand. 

Bucky stood up, his eyes searching Steve’s face. 

"Did I do something wrong? What’s going on?"

"You did nothing wrong." Steve immediately said, and stepped forward to bring himself close to Bucky, he guided the man back into the chair and he knelt down in front of him. 

Steve brought the hoodie around Bucky’s shoulders and held it so he could put his arm through. Then he zipped it up for him, focusing on the zipper and the fabric and the pockets and not Bucky’s big eyes looking down at him, his fearful expression. 

"Listen to me." Steve said. "You are never going back there again."

Bucky was confused. Never going back to HYDRA? What did this mean? If Steve owned HYDRA now he could do whatever he wanted, he owned all of it and by extension, Bucky. 

Steve was his new owner, he told himself. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The man was young and attractive and wealthy but… never go back to HYDRA? Would he live here? 

Suddenly what Nat was saying earlier, about needing anything, made so much more sense. But if he was to stay here with Steve, _be his_ , surely it would come at a price. Steve had rejected his advances so far but perhaps that was because of last night. 

Bucky thought again about the doctor, the inspection of his body, the way she had taken spit samples and blood samples. 

Of course, it made more sense now. Steve was a businessman, he wasn’t going to buy a product, let alone use it without making sure it was safe first. Bucky was sure that when Steve received the all clear that Bucky was clean and didn’t have anything contagious, then he would come for what was his. 

Bucky couldn’t help but shudder again. He took a deep breath, calming himself. He couldn’t fight this, fighting never got him anywhere.

He tried to reassure himself that so far Steve had been gentle and kind and even sympathetic. Perhaps if he was extra good, behaved well and was quiet he could gain Steve’s favour, and the man would go easier on him. He knew he couldn’t trust him, or anyone but being used by someone like Steve might not be so bad, especially if he got to stay here in the comfiest bed he’d ever slept on and eat like he did this morning. 

"It’s going to take some time for me to figure out," Steve said softly, his eyes meeting Bucky’s with a frown. "But I’m going to get you out of this."

Get him out of this? What did Steve mean? Did he mean freedom? A life away from HYDRA? But there could _never_ be such a thing. He would never be free of them, that was clear. And he didn’t want to be, not after the last time he was caught trying to escape. 

Bucky shook his head. "Don’t."

 _"Don't?"_ Steve asked. 

"There is no escape." Bucky said. 

How could he say that? Steve thought. Again he just wanted to hold Bucky, to comfort him. Yes, S.H.I.E.L.D was powerful, but he was powerful too.

He couldn’t give up on Bucky. Even if it meant taking down his entire business, himself even, to put this right.


	3. Three - June 2003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to New York so please forgive me :') <3

It would be a Saturday like any other. The streets of New York were bustling and Bucky made his way across the city, moving from spot to spot, in his usual pattern.

He'd begin in Brooklyn, then he would jump the train into Manhattan, where he usually found the best stuff. 

Dumpster diving wasn’t what most fourteen-year-old boys got up to on a Saturday morning but Bucky wasn’t like most boys his age.

His mother only got back to the little apartment they were squatting in a few hours before, so she’d probably sleep most of the day, unless she was moved on. Bucky zipped up his jacket and pulled on his rucksack. That probably wouldn't happen. They had been crashing there for a few weeks now and besides the other odd homeless person that might nosey in, they’d had no bother from no one. 

Bucky checked his wallet. $6. His mom had probably brought home some cash last night, but he didn’t want to wake her. 

Weekends were great, because the city was flooded with people, making him virtually unnoticeable, and all the food waste from the Friday night before would just be sat waiting for him to come and take home. It truly was tragic how much food was wasted everyday by businesses and people. But luckily, if Bucky got a lot, he could help out not only himself, but a few of the other people that crashed nearby. Other homeless folks that had helped him and his mom out in the past.

Sometimes you couldn’t trust other people on the streets, they had learned this quickly, but Bucky was only just out of childhood which in a way helped their cause, because an adult living on the street was one thing, but a child. That was tragic.

Bucky didn’t feel like his life was tragic. It was what it was. Who cared if he didn’t go to school? All that mattered was that he and his mother stayed together. That was all he cared about.

*

It was nearing midday and Bucky started to get hungry. He had found some great stuff outside a few groceries stores, still in the cans and plastic packets. But he couldn’t eat that stuff right now. 

He passed a diner, a little pizzeria/burger/shake place that smelled like fresh dough and cheese. It made his stomach growl. 

Perhaps he could find something in his budget, even if it was just a slice and a coke.

He peered through the window at the families in booths, laughing and filling their mouths so full. A baby in a high chair waved bright red spaghetti in one hand and pasta was flung over his head and onto his father who was shocked but then burst into laughter. For some reason, it seemed to make Bucky sad.

But those strange longing feelings were quickly halted. His ears began to pick up the faint sound of laughter, the crash of metal on metal and Bucky moved away from the Italian diner window and down the street toward the little alley by the side of the building.

Bucky peered down into the narrow way to see a group of boys, crowded around something by the trash cans… someone.

“You should have known better than to step foot in this neighbourhood again Rogers,” One boy said.

“You think you’re so much better than us now, do you?”

They laughed.

“Not so much better now, huh?”

Bucky could see a skinny blond boy on the ground, catching his breath, then slowly rising to his feet. Before the boy could even stand fully, one of the other boys socked him in the jaw.

His body slumped down again.

Bucky looked around, the street was quiet. He shouldn’t get involved. He was bigger than all three boys but there were still three of them and one of him. Eventually the kid would just lay there and the bullies would get bored but… _No_ … he was standing, again, rising to his feet. Did he have a death wish? 

“I can do this all day.”

Another punch, this time to the gut.

 _Stay down_ , Bucky wanted to shout.

But still the kid tried to stand back up. The boys continued to laugh and shake their heads.

“Money can’t protect you now? Can it Rogers?”

Bucky had another card he knew he could play, but they were teenagers, it would be too dangerous.

He watched quietly from behind a dumpster.

The blond boy tried to push himself up, struggling with what little strength he had left. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and in Bucky’s mind, didn’t look right. 

This was too much. One of the boys gave the kid a swift kick in the side.

Bucky ruffled up his hair, put on his best crazy eye and gently pulled the small pocket knife from his pocket.

He held it out just enough to catch the light and yelled.

“ _Hey!_ ”

All three faces turned quickly to look in Bucky’s direction. Bucky hobbled forward.

“Get outta here!”

Each of the boys took one look at Bucky’s dishevelled appearance, knife and suddenly took off. They scarpered past him, out of the alley and into the street. 

When they were gone, Bucky pocketed his knife, tucked his hair back behind his ears and rushed over to kneel before the small blond boy who was wheezing and still trying to stand up.

He was almost on his feet but he tumbled and Bucky steadied his arms, lowering him to sit back down.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice was so much softer now. “What is it?”

The boy was clearly not in great shape, he was so skinny and small, but his breathing was raspy and fast, like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. His bright blue eyes looked up into Bucky’s. 

He was beautiful, Bucky thought, no other way to describe it. But Bucky couldn’t dwell on that, he was trying to say something, his swollen pink lips opening and closing.

“It’s ok.” Bucky said calmly, releasing his tight grip on the boy's forearms, but still holding him steady. “Breathe. In. Out. There you go.”

The boy’s breathing slowed but it was still hoarse. Bucky realised something then, as the boy tried to point behind him.

Bucky turned and there, almost in the drain was an inhaler. Bucky quickly picked it up and wiped it off the best he could on the t-shirt under his jacket which was the cleanest thing he had on.

The boy quickly took it, pressed it to his lips and inhaled. It wasn’t necessary but they sat there, face to face, Bucky still steadying the blond boy and the blond boy still gripping Bucky a little. His breathing finally slowed.

“Are you ok?” 

“Never better.” The boy gave a weak smile and there was dried blood on his eyebrow.

“You’re bleeding.” Bucky said, and he pulled out a wad of napkins he’d swiped from a McDonalds last week. He handed one to the boy. 

“Thank you.” He said, taking it and wincing as he dabbed at his face.

“What was their problem?”

The boy shrugged and stood up.

Bucky took a few steps back and took a look at the guy that was shorter and skinnier than him. Bucky knew he was skinny too, it came with his circumstance. But he was Bulky and had height on his side. 

The blond boy was now looking him up and down too, taking in his clothes, his greasy hair and no doubt the dirt under his fingernails. 

This boy suddenly looked a lot different, his white polo was clean and the only marks on his clothes were from where he’d hit the ground. His hair was in a neat back and sides style and there was something about him Bucky just couldn’t place… maybe the shoes. Yeah, probably the shoes. You could just sense it on some people sometimes, maybe those bullies had sensed it on him too. Bucky remembered then what they had said. Money. Yeah. That’s what he could sense. 

Bucky nodded and began to walk away.

“Wait!” The kid called after him. “Thank you.”

Bucky paused. “You said that.”

“I said thank you for helping me with my asthma. But I wanted to thank you for stepping in.”

“Clearly you weren’t going to put a stop to it.”

“I had them on the ropes.” The kid gave a half smile and his cheeks flushed. 

_Why did he have to be cute?_

Bucky began to turn away again. “It’s cool.”

“Well, can I buy you a shake?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned back to see the guy walking slowly toward him, a small limp in his step.

“I don’t need your pity.” He spat.

“What pity?” The boy’s eyes were wide. “I owe you one. I’m Steve.”

Bucky didn’t know why but what little shame and anger had risen in him suddenly seeped away. Maybe it was how pathetic this kid looked or the way his blue eyes seemed to catch the light and made Bucky want to gaze into them.

He knew he liked boys, he had slowly been realising it since he was eleven and caught a glimpse of Justin Timberlake in the NSYNC music video for that stupid _Bye Bye Bye_ single which he totally did not consider buying. Besides, he and his mother were staying in a hostel at the time and they didn’t have their own CD player. 

“A shake?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

“Whatever flavour you want. Have you tried the ones here?”

Bucky shook his head.

Steve came to stand beside him at the end of the alley where they both hovered on the sidewalk. 

“Steve Rogers.” The kid said again, holding out his hand to Bucky. Did he want him to shake it? _Who did that?_

He was almost a head shorter than Bucky but he sighed and shook it anyway. He remembered how hungry he was and a milkshake wouldn’t go down too bad right now.

“Bucky.” 

Steve looked as though he wanted to ask something but stopped himself.

“Bucky.” He repeated. “After you.” And Steve followed Bucky into the diner.

*

Bucky was on his second shake and almost couldn’t keep it down for laughing.

“Hold on a minute here, you have to be kidding!”

“I’m not.” Steve took another slice from the large pizza the two were sharing. 

“Why would you start the fight?” Bucky laughed. “No offense dude but have you seen yourself?”

“Of course I have.” Steve smiled, then his face was serious. “They will always find something. The way I look. The way I act. My status. I don’t like bullies. They will always find something to rag on me for and I will always keep getting up.”

“I can’t tell if you’re tough or stupid.”

Steve tilted his head. “Both.”

Bucky shrugged, “Maybe you aren’t a seven year-old.”

“I’m almost thirteen.” Steve said in his most nonchalant voice.

“So you say. But you look about seven.” Bucky smirked and Steve rolled his eyes.

“And you look homeless. But I don’t keep reminding you? Do I?” 

It was just a joke. Steve actually kind of liked the way the boy’s long dark hair stuck out in random places and fell over his eyes. It almost reminded him of an anime character, or something like out of the comics he read.

But Bucky stopped chewing and sat back in his seat. His relaxed shoulders hunched forward and his head bowed a little.

Steve should have held his tongue. He didn’t have any friends his age besides fictional characters. He was just trying to banter like he’d observed other kids in his class do with their friends.

“I’m sorry.” Steve immediately leaned forward, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was a joke. I think your hair is cool-” He was rushing his words and beginning to blush until finally he stopped himself, drew back and drew his shoulders around himself too. 

Bucky sighed. He had only known Steve an hour and yet talking with him, he somehow knew that Steve would never insult him maliciously. Never be cruel. But how did Bucky know that? He hardly knew Steve and yet… he seemed to _get him._ To feel his kindness... or maybe it was naivety.

Maybe it was the free pizza and shakes - that Bucky had tried to pay for but Steve insisted it was on him - was clouding his judgement.

Steve was a stranger, and yet Bucky found himself saying: “I _am_ homeless.”

There was a silence. Bucky had never felt so ashamed and yet all Steve did was look up, sigh and say. 

“Are you just saying that so I’ll buy you another shake?”

And yet somehow, it was the right thing.

Bucky’s eyes looked up to find Steve’s who were waiting patiently. His tongue moved out of his mouth for just a moment to wet his lips and Bucky couldn’t help but stare at that mouth. Steve’s body was that of a boy but his face… Bucky had never stared into a face so angelic.

“No. I actually am homeless.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

Bucky let out a little chuckle.

Steve raised an eyebrow. He didn’t understand how that was funny but he was glad Bucky was smiling a little and continuing on with the pizza.

Steve watched him eat slice after slice for a while until he finally said, “I’ve never been homeless. I’m sorry. But I get being poor. My family had nothing until recently.”

“Oh yeah?”

“We actually used to live not far from here. In a run down little place. Those boys used to love making fun of my thrift store clothes. The holes in my shoes. Now we live in Manhattan. I don’t even go to school with them anymore and yet when I come back here they always seem to find me. Now I have _too much_ money. Like I said, they’ll always find something.”

“Dicks.”

“Are you in school?”

Bucky shook his head.

“How come?”

“If the state find out I haven’t been going to school and my mom can’t look after me they’ll put me in care.”

Steve nodded.

“She’s all I have left. The only family I got. If we’re separated…” Bucky didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t want to think about his mother left alone. What she already did when she thought he wasn’t around and might do if she was left with no one to lean on. 

Steve and Bucky talked more about Brooklyn, how they both loved the city and growing up there. 

Steve explained how this Italian Diner was one of his favourite places. How his family would save and save for one meal out together on his birthday and he would always choose here. But now his parents went out for food all the time and Steve felt weirdly uncomfortable and out of place everywhere. Bucky nodded in understanding.

He confined more in Steve about how he and his mother got by and Steve never seemed to cast pity. Bucky wondered if Steve’s pity came in the form of buying him another shake and more pizza when they finished their first. Bucky ate and ate and Steve seemed to take some pleasure in it. 

Maybe it was pity, Bucky thought, or maybe it was something else… Every now and then Bucky would catch Steve’s eyes on him, watching closely, for a moment too long. Then he would look away and his ears would glow pink a little. 

Bucky decided he didn’t care if it was pity, because by the end of their meal he pitied Steve. Only a small amount, considering the guy was so privileged. But he had no friends, semi-absent parents, a multitude of health problems, and was a punching bag for most of the kids in the city their age. He did feel a little bad for the guy, considering he was so nice.

They talked about video games for a while but Bucky didn’t have any of the consoles or any recent games and Steve blushed again and laughed and confessed that he actually preferred books and comics. They discussed that and Steve offered to lend Bucky some of his favourites.

“Bucky can’t be your real name,” Steve argued at one point.

“It is.”

“You’re lying. I can tell.”

“How can you tell? We just met.”

“Should I call the waiter over and cancel that sundae?”

Steve had said he wanted dessert so of course Bucky wasn’t going to turn down a free hot fudge sundae but then when the waitress came over and Bucky gave her his most charming smile, Steve got all quiet and mumbled something about not being so hungry after all. 

Bucky furrowed his brows but Steve just shook his head and looked away and somehow they had got onto the topic of his name.

“Fine!”

Steve laughed.

“My name is James.” Bucky mumbled quietly.

“James.” Steve said the name softly like he was feeling it with his mouth. “James.” He said again on what was barely an audible breath.

Bucky reddened. “Yes. It’s James Buchanan Barnes. Buchanan shortened to 'Bucky'. Which I prefer: _Bucky_.”

“I like James.”

“Well I like Bucky and those are my terms. You refer to me as Bucky or not at all.”

“Are we friends then?” Steve asked. Was that sass? He smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe not friends. I could be your bodyguard. Seems like you need one of those.”

“Ha ha.” Steve glared but smiled anyway. “Bucky the bodyguard. It almost has a ring to it.”

“How much do you pay?”

“In dollars or pizza?”

“Both or I won’t even consider it.”

“Then I don’t think I can afford you… _Bucky_ .” Steve seemed to draw out the name again as he had before with _James_ and Bucky was weirdly glad when the waitresses interrupted their conversation to bring him his dessert.

Steve had no clue where Bucky was putting all this food but he didn’t care. He would sit here all day if he could and order Bucky dish after shake after sundae after pizza. He fancied Bucky. How could he not? He was tall and rugged and helped scare off his attackers but he’d never felt like this for anyone before. Like there were so many butterflies. So Steve tried to hide it as much as he could, until eventually he could be alone again and find a book and read and figure out just exactly what was happening.

Was Steve flirting? Of course not, Bucky thought. He was twelve. That was gross. Yes, he _was_ cute and had that soft blond hair and the brightest blue eyes but he was a stranger, a free lunch that Bucky was grateful for and then he would be on his way.

A part of Bucky was glad for the company. Without school, he’d lost touch with all his old friends and spent most of his time alone these days. He didn’t mind it. But still… Why did Steve’s smile make Bucky feel so… comfortable? 

*

Steve wasn’t quite sure how he’d let Bucky talk him into this but it was happening.

He moved as quietly and stealthily as possible, following close behind Bucky and ducking under the stands until finally they came to a stop.

Steve’s heart was racing but not in the good way. Bucky had suggested Coney Island and the thought of the rides made Steve nervous but he should have gone for it. People hurled after taking a turn on the fairground rides all the time, he could have played it off. But then Bucky had suggested this instead and if he hurled now he really had no excuse besides the fact that he was just so afraid of getting in trouble.

Bucky turned to see Steve as white as a sheet and laughed. 

“Dude _relax_. Look. No one is going to see us are they? They’re a little preoccupied.”

Bucky sat down on the gravel and Steve followed.

After the diner and getting into a heated discussion about where to go next and Bucky ruling out all museums on account that it was a Saturday and tourist central, Bucky finally convinced Steve to let Bucky lead the way to what he dubbed: _“the coolest thing - just wait and see!”_

Steve gladly paid for Bucky’s subway fare and although Bucky didn’t really want to take it, he wanted to see Steve’s face when they passed upper Manhattan and arrived outside the Yankee Stadium. 

Steve wasn’t aware of any season games besides the one scheduled for October but something was happening inside and Bucky was adamant they were going in.

Steve offered to purchase any tickets but Bucky just shook his head and led Steve around one side of the huge building to a staff entrance that was somehow open when Bucky tugged on the door.

Really, it seemed to Steve that Bucky wasn’t really that smart, just super lucky. 

As they half-ran-half-walked, ducking behind walls and dodging past stewards, they somehow managed to find another door that led down some steps and down behind a smaller stand of seats where Bucky and Steve could creep behind the bleachers and watch the action for free between the legs of the paying spectators. 

_“Bucky we shouldn't be here,”_

_“Bucky where are you going?”_

_“Bucky, stop! Wait! Slow down!”_

All of Steve's hushed anxious plees were met with a mischievous grin and a beckoning hand.

Steve had to go with him, to keep him out of more trouble. He supposed they were too young to get into any serious trouble but still... Steve didn’t like breaking rules. 

But clearly Bucky had no fears of authority or ending up on the wrong side of what would probably be a few angry staff members.

Until then, Steve attempted to calm himself and catch his breath as Bucky muffled his laughter, sat down on the ground and to watch the game unfold.

It was actually kind of dark, the stands let in a fair amount of light but mostly they were cast in the shadow of the bleachers and the bodies that sat on them.

For a moment Steve thought he might have to pull out his inhaler again but then Bucky placed a big, steadying hand on his arm, shuffled a little closer to Steve, his long legs sprawled out in front of him unlike Steve’s short ones that he tucked up under himself. 

“Chill out. I’ve done this dozens of times. Never been caught.”

“Let me guess. You bring pretty girls here and catch them unaware in the dark?”

Bucky laughed and Steve liked how it sounded. There was so much noise in the ground with the game and the spectators, it must have been minor league, Steve decided.

And then his wandering thoughts were immediately halted when Bucky replied: “Maybe a few pretty girls. Maybe a few cute boys too.”

Steve almost had a full on asthma attack at that. He coughed, choked a little and Bucky laughed as he pat his back.

“Sorry.” He leaned away from Steve a little and Steve noticed a long streak of sunlight fall across Bucky’s face, his grey eyes seemed to glisten like silver. 

“It’s ok.” Steve chuckled when he composed himself again

Bucky laughed too. 

“So which am I? A pretty girl or a cute boy?”

Bucky grinned and looked away from Steve. Both looked anywhere but at each other. Steve fiddled with his shoe intently until they eventually fell back into that rhythm of taking turns to ask questions. Which sports they both liked. Their favourite teams and players. If they collected any trading cards. What they wanted to be when they grew up. What their parents were like and what they didn’t like about them. 

This then led Bucky into confessing that he hadn’t really brought any dates here. To this place. He’d only been here alone or a few times with his dad. Bucky seemed sad when he mentioned him and Steve didn’t want to press. Not yet. Although he felt he could ask Bucky anything. 

There was something between them. Steve couldn’t place it but he could feel it. He’d never experienced a sensation like it. The excitement of being alone together, watching the other, unravelling the other. And the laughter. Steve’s cheeks seemed to ache with the constant smiling and although he was so worried about getting in trouble for being here, he didn’t care, he just wanted to follow Bucky. What was it about him that made Steve trust so easily? 

The crowd was so loud and Steve shuffled closer to Bucky so he could hear him better. 

“I’ve never done anything like this,” Steve laughed. 

“I can tell.” Bucky nudged his elbow into Steve’s arm. “I mean all that reading, piano practice, art classes… do you collect stamps too?”

“I don’t!”

“What is it then grandpa? Postcards? Coins?”

Steve groaned. 

“Are you sure you’re thirteen? That cardigan is definitely something my grandad would wear.”

Bucky lifted his hand and tugged a little at a button on Steve’s knit cardigan. Maybe the style was a little odd and it definitely fit him which was unlike the clothes his classmates were wearing these days. Steve laughed and looked down at Bucky’s hand. He expected Bucky to drop the fabric or maybe Steve should have swatted his hand away but he didn’t. He just let Bucky's fingers linger over his chest. It suddenly felt tight and his laughter died. 

He looked up at Bucky who was watching his own hand, his smile faded when felt how soft the fabric was. 

Steve said nothing, just waited and watched Bucky. Finally Bucky’s eyes found Steve’s again. Those big blue’s shining up at him even in the shadows. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asked. He would never usually have been so forward but who knew if he’d ever see Steve again? And even though the guy was old beyond his years Bucky liked laughing with him... being with him made him forget about everything. All of his problems and insecurities seem to vanish into the sound of the crowd chanting above them.

“It’s _‘may I’_...” Steve began to correct but Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips to Steve’s. 

It lasted only a moment, and then he pulled away. Both boys immediately blushed, began to laugh nervously and look away. 

It was chaste, innocent and light. But it was still a kiss. And there was still that _something_ . The _something_ both boys could feel but couldn’t even begin to understand. 

Steve put his fingers against his own lips gently as if to check they were still the same and Bucky finally let go in Steve’s sweater and was squeezing his hands together. 

They began to laugh harder. Nervous and excited at the same time and then Bucky suddenly had to ask: “Was that… ok?”

“Was that your first kiss?” Steve smirked. 

“No!” Bucky looked away again. “Maybe…”

“It was mine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Was it worse than you expected?” Bucky cringed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“It was... nice.”

“Really?” Bucky asked again. 

“Really.”

Both boys blushed again and looked away. 

“We should… probably get going. People are leaving and we can merge with the crowd.” Bucky said. 

Steve couldn’t help but feel a little defeated. But he followed Bucky through the mass of people and back out onto the street, with no one the wiser that they should never have been there.

They began to walk back towards the station and Steve checked his watch. 

“I should probably get going. Walk me to that pay phone?”

Bucky nodded. 

“So… my birthday is next weekend. Would you want to hang out? Pizza and shakes again?”

“On me?” Bucky asked.

“No, I’ll cover it.”

“You can’t cover it on your own birthday.”

“It’s not actually me covering it.”

“Oh yeah. Bank of Mom and Dad.”

“Exactly.” Steve beamed.

They arrived at the pay phone and Steve put in the coins. Bucky overheard him explaining to someone that he wasn’t in Brooklyn anymore and needed to be picked up at a new place. Steve put the phone to his chest and asked Bucky if he needed a ride anywhere. He shook his head and Steve went back to his call. 

He liked that Steve didn’t push it. Or try to insist on helping him. Bucky could handle himself and didn’t need any pity.

When Steve was off the phone they organised a time to meet at the diner in a week. Bucky smiled and said he would be there, before waving and disappearing into the group of people heading for the subway. 

Steve suddenly felt more alone than ever and hugged his cardigan tighter. 

For a moment Steve wished he’d got Bucky’s number. But he doubted they had a house phone, and even Steve didn’t have a cell yet. 

But all would be fine. The stranger he’d met just hours ago had suddenly become a best friend. And on top of that, _they’d kissed_. 

His first kiss. Steve couldn’t help but smile ridiculously to himself when he thought about those few seconds of Bucky’s lips. They had tasted like chocolate sauce and Steve had closed his eyes and felt his body bloom with something he’d never felt so strongly before.

Before he knew it, the car had arrived to take him back to his family home in Manhattan. 

*

Steve waited outside the diner. Bucky was fifteen minutes late. Then thirty. 

Steve decided he would go in alone and get them a table and order himself a drink while he waited. 

Bucky had said he would be here. And Steve trusted him. 

But after three hours of sipping on warming strawberry ice cream and nibbling at cold pizza, Steve began to doubt Bucky was on his way. 

Steve knew it. Knew friends weren’t something he would ever have the luxury of. Bucky had probably just been humouring him for some free food. But then why take him to the baseball? Why confide in Steve about being homeless? Why kiss him?

Steve blushed and shook his head. He felt sick. Why was he so lame?

*

Steve wouldn’t let one bad birthday ruin the rest. Or his weekend treats at the diner. Every time he visited after he hoped he might see Bucky. Maybe he would stop by the stadium too. Steve would watch the window out into the street and it would remain empty.

After a few months Bucky began to fade a little, never fully. But now when Steve visited the diner alone, he would make sure he had a book or some sketching paper to keep him company and distracted instead.


	4. Four - April 2019

Steve couldn’t comfort Bucky.

Even though the man felt more and more familiar to him with every moment… the boy he’d spent one of the best days of his life with… he couldn’t do it. He didn’t feel it was appropriate, because he knew that even if it was for Bucky’s sake, Steve would take selfish pleasure in it. 

To be close to that boy again, now a man, and grown and just as handsome as Steve remembered.

Real. He was real. Not a fantasy or dream. But this wasn’t the same Bucky. His Bucky had confronted Steve’s bullies and sneaked past the staff at the baseball stadium like it was nothing. Like no one could touch him or stop him.

Steve took Bucky around the apartment.

They left the sitting room and Steve guided Bucky through the dining room and into the kitchen.

“You can use whatever you’d like, the television, the record player. Help yourself to whatever you want, the fridge is always well stocked and the cupboards too. Or you’re more than welcome to use the phone, there’s take out menus in the drawer…”

The phone? Who would Bucky call? He paused by the giant kitchen island and looked over it toward the floor to ceiling windows which took up the entire wall opposite them.

New York spread out in front of them, a mass of highrises, the Empire State building and Rockefeller Center to the right and then the mass of green Central Park to the left.

Bucky had seen his share of penthouse hotel rooms but seeing the city like this always took his breath away. It never felt old, and even in the moments he couldn’t exactly remember who he was, the city always felt familiar. The city always felt like home.

“Stunning isn’t she?” Steve said beside him. 

Bucky gave a small nod in agreement. 

At the opposite end of the kitchen they entered by and to their left was an archway that led to the long hallway, leading out to the front door. And straight ahead was a wooden spiral staircase. The black metal banister matched the black accents of the kitchen which stood out from the glossy white tiles and light marble countertops. It was all so _clean_.

The huge amount of light from the windows shined over the room making everything glisten.

“Follow me,” Steve said softly, and Bucky followed behind him up the spiral staircase to another smaller landing.

The landing was also flooded by the same light and Steve led Bucky toward one of the three doors. Steve opened it but didn’t step in. He simply gestured to Bucky as he said, “My office. Very boring. If you ever need me just knock.”

Bucky peered in to see another room with floor to ceiling windows, a simple desk and a few shelves decorated with photos, books and plants.

“Moving along,” Steve opened the next door that was opposite that of the study. “Home gym. You can hold the jokes. Feel free to use it.”

Use the home gym? Bucky was still uncertain about all of this. What exactly was happening here? He wanted to ask but a part of him was still so tired from the night before and his body ached.

“And lastly, my… den I guess you could call it?” This door was in the middle of the first two. Steve opened the door and they went inside. This room had no windows at all, but a few skylight windows in the ceiling that let in a different kind of sunshine. The decor was a vintage style with dark woods and almost every wall was covered in bookshelves or art. In one corner was a tilted table top for drawing, a folded easel and a side table covered in little paint stains.

In the other corner was a large comfy couch and next to it, facing into the last corner was an upright piano, the ivory keys yellow and aged. 

“It looks like a studio,” Bucky said. “You’re an artist?”

“I wish.” Steve laughed.

“So many books.” 

“This is some of the collection, yes. Please. Use it if you’d like.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he'd ever seen a room so cozy and the lamps, dotted around… he couldn’t imagine what it might be like at night, the soft bulbs and the stars overhead.  “It’s amazing…” Bucky said quietly.

“No stamp collection.” Steve gave a little laugh.

“What?” Bucky had moved toward the piano and was softly running his fingertips over the keys.

“It was something you said… the last time I saw you… I’ll explain another time.”  It had meant to be funny but it had just made Steve sad.  “Well… shall we?” 

Bucky followed Steve back downstairs and into the hallway again. They passed Steve's room, another bathroom and as they moved towards what could only be the front door to the apartment, they stopped at the room next to Steve’s. It was somewhat smaller and had no windows at all, similar to the sitting room. But it had light carpet, neutral walls, and a large bed with soft pillows like Steve’s.

Nat was in there hanging clothes, pulling items out of bags labelled Gucci, Calvin Klein and Burberry. 

There were t-shirts, hoodies, jeans, coats, and a large wash bag full to the brim with shampoo, deodorant, aftershave.

Nat smiled at them.  “He giving you the grand tour?”

“I’ve seen bigger.” Bucky smiled back.

Nat beamed. “I like you.”

“Not that size matters but this room is slightly smaller than mine,” Steve chimed in when Bucky sat down gently on the edge of the bed. 

“But you have an en-suite too,” Steve pointed at a white door. “Or you can take my room and I’ll sleep here.”

“You’re afraid I won’t keep my hands to myself?”

Steve sighed. He couldn’t tell if Bucky was flirting because he’d been told not to, and as such it wound Steve up - which did seem more like the Bucky he knew. Or because it was what he felt he was supposed to do because in his eyes Steve was a client.

“I just assumed you’d want your own space.”

His _own_ space… Bucky would have to think about that one. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to sleep in a room without the sound of other bodies around him. But he nodded politely anyway.

“And this is all yours…” Nat gestured at all her shopping, someone must have dropped it off while he was getting the tour.

“All mine?”

“Yes. Clean clothes, underwear, toothbrush, you know, the essentials.”

Bucky picked up a glass bottle.

“Hugo Boss is essential?”

“Only the best for our guest.”

Bucky looked up at them both then… almost weary. His brows furrowed and his head seemed a little foggy.

“Can I get you anything?” Steve asked, concern in his voice.

“Could I…” Bucky felt rude, but Steve had asked. “I think I might take a nap… if that’s ok?” Nat stopped what she was doing and put the rest of the items on the dresser.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“This is… a lot to take in…”

The doorbell rang and Nat went to get it.

Steve closed the door behind him and sat down beside Bucky on the bed.

_Was this it?_ Was it happening? Was Steve finally going to tell Bucky what he wanted, what he expected?

“I mean it. You’re safe here. You’re a guest. I want you to be comfortable.”

Bucky was silent but he nodded.

“I’ll leave you to it.” And with those words, Steve got up and left.

In the silence, Bucky looked around at the perfectly neat room. Hesitantly, he laid back on the comforter and closed his eyes.

*

When Steve reached the dining room again, Sam had arrived and was nodding while Nat talked him through the situation they’d stumbled upon.

There was a cup of coffee waiting for Steve too and he and Sam sipped as they thought. 

A year into college Steve’s father passed. The business was then passed to Steve and his mother. Now out of high school and looking nothing like his former thirteen year old self, Steve actually managed to make a lot of friends at college and at the numerous parties he was invited to. His first roommate was Sam Wilson who was studying engineering with a hope to take his skills into the military. They were fast friends, jogging partners and each other's wingman at parties with the ladies. And when Steve’s father passed, Sam had always been there for him, no questions.

Sam retired from the air force a few years back and now worked as a detective at the NYPD. 

“Well I did a little digging. HYDRA, within S.H.I.E.L.D, it’s what we expected... human trafficking.”

Nat sat back in her seat shaking her head and Steve began to feel a headache forming behind his eyes.

“But I couldn’t search the system too much. There are some high up cops who I believe might be taking bribes from them, senators and government officials too. It’s dangerous.”

“We’ve got to press pause, Steve,” Nat turned to him, eyes wide. “The merger, Project Insight, we have to get out of this.”

Steve nodded, but there were so many elements at play here.

“If you do, it’ll have to be smart.” Sam replied, giving both Nat and Steve a worried look.

“It can’t seem suspicious. If we pull out too quickly and HYDRA find out we’re onto them, or worse, working against them, they might do something to hurt the company.” Steve said.

“Or you…” Nat said quietly and the three shared another harrowing glance before sipping at their quickly cooling coffees. 

“We don’t want to mess with these people,” Sam continued. “They’re in all sorts of bad shit. Not just renting people out for sex. There’s drugs, bankrolling gangs and terrorist groups. You cut off one head, two more pop up. And don’t even ask how I learned this.”

“HYDRA is a problem but my main concern right now is Bucky.”

“Oh, the ghost of Christmas past. Nat said you knew him… a childhood friend? I thought you were always a loner back in school?” Sam gave a small smirk.

“I was. But I met him once. I’m sure of it.”

“And how are you so sure it’s him? If you only met once... Must have been a pretty memorable meeting.”

Steve sighed, trying to pull the old memories of the dark haired boy to the top of his mind. The more he pictured the eyes, the hair… the lips. And James-  “Yes.” Steve said firmly. “It was.”

“I’m going to call that number again. Give me a minute.” Nat quickly stood up and made her way into the kitchen where her steps became muffled and quiet through the walls.

“James Barnes.” Steve said clearly to Sam. “James Buchanan Barnes. I’m certain.”

“I thought it was Bucky?” Sam’s brows narrowed.

“That was just a nickname. I need you to search that name Sam… whatever you can find. He lived in Brooklyn, I remember that. And he was fourteen, maybe fifteen in 2003.”

Sam had begun to write the details down on a notepad. “Any family?”

“A mother… I think… I didn’t get a name and he didn’t seem to have a relationship with his father… I don’t know.”

“Is there anything else?”

Of course there were other things Steve remembered. The way he shrugged his backpack over his shoulders, his laugh, the way the corners of his mouth would seem to meet the corners of his eyes when he smiled, so big. But Steve couldn’t say that. It wasn’t useful. And how was he supposed to say it? I once met a boy and I fell for him in just a day and we kissed and it was incredible and even though I never saw him again I proceeded to spend months drawing him over and over again, writing his name in my journal and maybe scouring the streets of Brooklyn hoping I might find him again, hoping I hadn’t just made him up in my head...

Steve shook his head at Sam and looked down into his lap.

Luckily Nat strode back into the room with purpose and stood at the table. They looked up at her, awaiting her news.

“I just got off the phone with Megan from HYDRA. I mean, _really?_ Anyway I explained that you wanted to keep Bucky for the week, that you were very pleased with his...  _ services- _ ” She shrugged, “And that should you require James for longer we could let them know. Megan then proceeded to inform me that James has other clients and that although Mr Rogers would be becoming a part of their company soon, James was a valued asset and as such Mr Rogers would have to pay for his time.”

“What?” Steve demanded, standing to meet Nat’s eyeline. 

Steve was confused. A week with Bucky and then he had to pay? Alexander had made it sound like he could take home anyone he liked.

“You have a week. A week with James and then you’ll have to pay.”

“Steve, let’s not jump to more conclusions here. James never actually confirmed that he was being held against his will. He might want to go back to… wherever it is he calls home in a week and go back to his job.” Sam said.

“It’s not a job if you’re being forced to do it and have no choice in your customers.”

“Steve-” Nat began.

“It wasn’t like that. I spoke to Alexander Pierce. He made it clear.”

“Let’s just take a minute here.” Sam suggested. 

Nat and Steve looked at him then lowered back into their seats.

“It’s probably a trick. HYDRA’s way of keeping you quiet. If you pay them for James- _Bucky_ ,” He shook his head, “they will have evidence that you are connected and have taken part in the activities.”

The headache behind Steve’s eyes seemed to thud harder. Could skulls shrink? His felt like it was.

“We have until the end of the week.” Sam repeated. “I have an old friend from the military, Nick Fury. He’s a fed but I trust him.”

Nat and Steve glanced at one another. It was a risk, they knew it, but they both trusted Sam.

“I’ll get in touch. He might be able to help us out.” With these words Sam pulled on his jacket and the three stood.

“And until then?” Nat asked.

“Just keep him here, as a guest. Go out if you want but I have no doubt HYDRA is keeping tabs on this place. Next time I just meet Nat, somewhere public.”

“You and Steve are friends. You're not in your uniform.” Nat said.

Sam shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. I’ll call.”

“I really appreciate this man.” Steve began. “I trust you and your advice, but I’m not sending him back at the end of the week.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Sam gave Steve his usual half-handshake-half pat on the back and Nat went with him to the lobby.

Steve moved from the dining area to go sit in the lounge. The giant couches were calling his name and as his body sank into the cushions the headache began to ease. Sam was on board, he reassured himself. Steve trusted him as much as Nat. With Sam’s help he just knew they could come up with a plan. And until then, he had a week with Bucky. A week to protect him and get to know him again. A small part of Steve felt selfishly glad that Bucky was back in his life. He knew that Bucky didn’t remember him but maybe… after time… Steve would understand why Bucky didn’t show that day. Why did it still hurt?

Steve sighed, trying to push away the sadness. He was over it, he wasn’t upset or angry or confused anymore. It was what it was. All that mattered was that Bucky was here now.

*

Bucky woke with a dry mouth, surprised he had been able to sleep.

He ventured out of the bedroom, down the long hallway into the living areas. It was all empty and quiet, with a few lamps casting warm light over the seats, decor on the walls and books that seemed to be neatly placed… everywhere. On shelves and side tables, or simply stacked against the walls.

He made his way through the dining room to the huge kitchen that faced out to the balcony that overlooked the city. The buildings were now just silhouettes, their lit windows blinking like stars. 

Bucky realised again how high up they were and in the small lights dotted under the counters he noticed Steve.

His huge torso was leaning over a laptop settled on the kitchen island.

When Steve heard Bucky to his left he looked up.

“Bucky… how are you?” Steve was wearing a pair of thick black reading glasses but he somehow still managed to look handsome.

It would take Bucky a moment to become accustomed to being asked how he was.

“Thirsty. Hungry too I suppose.”

Steve smiled and immediately jumped up to get Bucky some fresh water from the fridge. It was as if it appeared by magic and Steve was suddenly setting it down for him on the counter while also refilling his coffee mug and another for Bucky.

Bucky sat awkwardly at the island, adjacent to Steve’s set up. 

“Sorry.” Steve said. “Remind me how you take it?”

“Just black is fine.”

Steve nodded and set the mug down. 

“Pizza is on the way, but if you want I can get you something to eat now.” Steve immediately went back over to the fridge and opened it up. 

“I can wait.” Bucky said.

“Are you sure? It’s no bother.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky took a hearty chug from his water and then began to sip the coffee.

Steve hesitantly began to close the fridge door then went back to his seat.

“Where’s Nat?” Bucky asked.

“She went home.”

“Oh.” Bucky looked down at his coffee.

“Do you need something?” Steve asked. “She’ll be back Monday.”

“I just… wondered where she was. She doesn’t stay here?” 

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion.  “Well she’s my PA.”

“I know but… the way you talked I figured… nevermind.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head with that easy smile. “She’s my PA. She’s like a sister. She’s too good for me.”

“So you don’t have a girlfriend then?”

“Not for a long time.” Steve laughed nervously. He needed a beer if Bucky was going to continue on this line of conversation.

“You seem like the family man type.” Bucky didn’t elaborate on how he had a lot of experience with family men. Men who had the perfect lives, the beautiful wives, the daughters in ballet and the sons in orchestra. But they all had their secrets, and they all loved Bucky. His body, the things he did to them, the things they did to him.

It was the perfect Christmas card life but when they left their estates and came into the city to play their family were strangers.

“I thought I was.” Steve said with a sigh. “A long time ago, there was one woman… then there was a man… I could have settled down with either of them but… it wasn’t meant to be I suppose.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not sad. They’re both very happy and we’re actually all still friends.”

“Of course. You seem like someone who would actually stay friends with their exes.”

“Is that weird?”

“Yes.” Bucky laughed a little and Steve liked that he seemed to be relaxing. “No one is that nice.”

Steve shrugged. “Peggy - one of my exes - once said that I found it easy to let go of people because I never let them close enough.”

“Is that true?”

“Maybe. I loved her deeply. But I don’t think I was holding back…”

“What were you doing then?”

Steve held his tongue. He could never say it aloud. Never admit it. It was madness. But in his heart a small part of him knew he was waiting. Always looking over his shoulder or searching a crowd. Waiting for someone…

Luckily, the short sound of a bell rang out from the hallway.

“That’ll be dinner.” Steve said quickly and went to fetch the order from his doorman who had kindly brought it up for him.

“You know it’s part of the job, you don’t always have to tip.” Nat mumbled to him once but Steve just rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

Steve arrived back in the kitchen with a stack of large pizzas, the smell immediately intoxicating Bucky for a moment.

“I was going to watch TV.” Steve began. “Bring the beer?”

Bucky jumped up from his stool, found the pack of beer in the fridge and followed Steve through the dining room into the lounge. 

Steve set the pizza up on the large coffee table and plonked himself down on the couch. Bucky, like at the island, perched himself on the adjacent couch, Steve to his right and the television to his left. 

“I know you don’t remember me, but last time we met you ate a lot of pepperoni pizza.”

“I did?”

“Yes. So I got that, and a margarita and a hawaiian.”

“A hawaiian? Are you sure it was me? I wouldn’t have eaten that.”

“You were against it at the time too but I like it and I wouldn’t mind having some left for me.”

They laughed and both took a slice. Steve flicked through the channels. There didn’t seem to be any sport on and so he settled for some old Parks and Rec reruns to fill the silences between their conversation.

“How old was I?” Bucky said after a few slices, “when we met.”

“Fourteen or fifteen.”

Bucky shook his head. “I started at HYDRA when I was fifteen. Maybe fourteen. It’s fuzzy.”

Steve sighed.  “Let me think. I was a week away from thirteen and you were a year older. I remember you saying. Maybe you were fourteen. Then it would have been at the end of June, 2003. We ate a lot of pizza and ice-cream.”

“We were friends?” Bucky’s face was confused.

“Fast friends. You made fun of my clothes and how skinny I was. But not in a mean way... I looked very different back then.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t ring a bell...” Bucky lied.

In reality, all he remembered was that when HYDRA offered him help, he quickly realised it wasn’t charity. In blurs he remembered pain, dark cells, trying to escape, starving… until eventually he stopped. Eventually what little fight he had left in him was beaten out. He gave in, did as he was told, and although the work was a nightmare, he was finally able to eat and rest and shower. His life before was gone with his fight, and each time a blow to the head came, more and more was lost.

One day he realised he couldn’t remember exactly who he was or how he’d even got to HYDRA. Did he have parents? Friends? Had he been born into this life? But a few scraps of light remained. A woman’s face, the sunshine on the grass in central park, a grey button on a cardigan… 

“Maybe so.” Steve nodded and quickly finished a slice loaded with pineapple that Bucky cringed at.

“Is this what you usually do on a Saturday night? Pizza and TV?”

“Sometimes it’s chinese.”

“How old are you? Like thirty?”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Steve corrected.

“And this is your Saturday night?”

“I go out sometimes… for work things… but yes. I like take-out and a good book and I’m happy.”

“And we were friends?”

“You haven’t changed at all.” Steve laughed.

For the first time since he got here Bucky gave a real smile. An ear to ear grin, all teeth and sparkling eyes.

Why did that make Bucky feel so warm? He couldn’t trust Steve, he couldn’t trust anyone. But the thought of a real person from his past who actually knew him… he couldn’t help but feel a little excited, if not also terrified. 

When the conversation had quietened and both men were full and lounging on the couches watching Leslie Knope attempt to manage a chaotic public forum, Bucky got up and settled down next to Steve on his couch.

“Is this ok?” Bucky asked.

Steve looked a little weary. “It’s fine.”

“Do you want to put your arm around me? Or I could put my arm around you, but I mean, I have limited availability at the moment,” Bucky gave a smile and pointed at the air where his left arm should have been.

It was a joke but Steve couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

“Bucky…” Steve began.

Maybe this was Steve’s  _ thing _ . He liked to play hard to get, innocent and coy. Bucky could work with that, he preferred it to the guys who simply wanted to bend him over at the first chance and penetrate him with anything hard. He pushed the painful thoughts from his mind.

“I promise I’m clean. We can just cuddle if you’d prefer. I’m good at that too for a one armed guy.”

Bucky shuffled closer and put his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve was frozen. He wanted this, of course he did, he had since he was thirteen but Bucky didn’t want this. He was just doing his job.

“Bucky wait. Please don’t. I need to explain.” 

Bucky lifted himself from Steve and watched him with a frown. His dark hair was a little dishevelled but so different now than last night or those years ago. It was so clean and fell softly around his face. 

Bucky looked down, his usual confused puppy expressions and waited silently for Steve.

“I meant what I said earlier. You don’t have to do any of this. You’re a guest here. HYDRA has given me a week with you and in that week I intend to make sure you never have to go back there again. Tell me honestly, Bucky. If you didn’t want to go back to them, would you have a choice?”

Bucky stayed silent, an almost guilty look on his face.

“Tell me the truth.”

Again Bucky didn’t respond.

“You own HYDRA now… You own me… You’re very handsome Mr Rogers-  _ Steve _ . I don’t mind-” Bucky began.

“Please.” Steve interrupted. “ _Please James_ … just tell me the truth. I know you think you have to _‘take care’_ of me or please me but you don’t. As far as HYDRA knows, we’re doing that. You can trust me and have nothing to fear… just tell me honestly: Do you want to go back there?”

Bucky was still for a moment but then shook his head.

“But you believe you don’t have a choice?”

“I don’t.”

Bucky was so confused. What was Steve doing? Could he really trust him or was this just a game? Some men liked to ask questions like this. Some men liked to play the saviour, pretend to rescue Bucky from his poor, disgusting life and Pretty Woman him. But it was always lies. They just wanted to feel good about themselves and rest easy in the knowledge that they weren’t as bad as the rest, that at least they brought a little hope to Bucky’s life.

He wasn’t a toy.

He wasn’t a toy-

But.

You are a toy.

You are just a body.

You are whatever they want you to be.

You are nothi-

_ Enough! _

Bucky stood, putting distance between him and Steve.

He wanted to believe him. He wanted to think he wasn’t just a product but how could he? He had tried to escape so many times. Tried to fight back so many times. It was pointless. There was no leaving this life. He only knew one way out and it was a little trickier when your every move was watched and you only had one hand to tie the rope.

The room felt suddenly hot. The air was frozen in his chest. Why couldn’t he breathe? He stumbled away from the couch and sank down against the wall, knees to his chest but he somehow still felt dizzy.

“Bucky!”

Steve’s wide blue eyes suddenly appeared before him.

Steve rested his hands on Bucky’s elbows.

“It’s ok. Just breathe. You’re ok.”

Just breathe… like it was that simple. But Steve’s lips, the way they moved, his jawline and the smell of pizza and sweat and…

Why was it all so familiar?

For a moment he thought he was somewhere else. Kneeling down on the floor of a shadowed alley, but the same lips, the same smell and… those blue eyes... Were there some flecks of green and grey in the irises?

“Just breathe. I’m so sorry Bucky… Just breathe.”

Finally the room seemed to straighten and he pizza in Bucky’s stomach stopped threatening to show itself again.

Steve helped Bucky back onto the couch and sat a good distance back from him.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to handle. HYDRA is all you know. But I…” Steve stopped himself, rethinking his words. “I don’t own HYDRA. Not yet. And I’m not going to. After what I’ve learned, _I can’t_. I don’t own you Bucky. No one ever will again, I can promise you that.”

Bucky almost wanted to laugh.

“You honestly think you can beat them?”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“It’s wrong. It’s… human trafficking…”

“Which happens everywhere, all the time, and now you suddenly care, when it risks your business, when it threatens your name... _Captain America. Mr Good Guy_.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Really? Because I’ve never met a man like you who thinks of anyone but himself first. People don’t get rich or powerful without only looking out for number one.”

“I admit. This wouldn’t look good for me but-”

“But nothing. The money would stop. The money…” Bucky’s voice trailed off.

“I don't care about the money, Bucky. I care about you... Helping you.” 

Bucky stood up and began to walk away. “You just want to help yourself.” He said.

And Steve watched from the couch as Bucky left the sitting room, paced down the hallway and around the corner.

*

Bucky laid back on the bed. Why did the sheets have to smell so good?

He was angry. He wanted to smash something, sock Steve right in the jaw and get down on his knees and pray all at the same time.

Let Steve be true. But luck never landed on Bucky.

Stupid Steve. Even if he did care about Bucky... Bucky could handle himself. He didn’t need the pity, or to be saved like some princess. 

Why couldn’t Steve have just cuddled him? Fed him pizza and fucked him into the pillow like the rest? Why did he have to get Bucky’s hopes up?

It was pointless. As nice as the guy seemed he was no match for HYDRA. 

Bucky contemplated leaving.

Just walking out now. If Steve was telling the truth he wouldn’t stop him and it wouldn’t be long before someone found him and took him back to the unit where he stayed. The usual bag over his head and earmuffs so he was always in the dark about the location.

He _should_ leave. Let Steve worry about himself and Bucky the same.

And yet… it was as if something had stirred in Bucky’s mind… Steve said they had met and for a moment it was as if he remembered. The flash of those eyes were the same but from a different time… like deja vu. 

It was ridiculous really. Bucky couldn’t just stay on a strange feeling. But after a while of staring up at the ceiling he decided he might as well stay, eat Steve’s food, and wait the week out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much plot! :') Thanks for reading!


	5. Five - April 2019

Bucky barely slept.

He knew it had been some kind of miracle that he’d managed to nap the day before, and as such, he didn’t feel totally washed out when the clock on his bedside read 09:04. 

It had been the usual: lay awake trying to think of nothing, finally fall asleep, then wake damp and heart racing from a dream of Schmidt and Zola.

 _Push it down, clear your mind, forget.._. 

Then he would lie awake trying to distract himself. It was easier at the house, the place he shared with the other folks who sold their bodies for HYDRA. One of Bucky’s roommates had an iPod and sometimes he let Bucky borrow it. Music, he found, was a great distraction.

But here all he had was silence and when he finally drifted off again he saw Steve. They were being chased on a subway train.

He followed Steve through the carriages until finally they reached the end. But HYDRA was closing in. The faceless men in black with tasers and knives and as Bucky pulled at a door he could see their train was no longer on its line but in the middle of a snowscape. Bucky looked down at the edge of a mountain. When had they left New York?

There was no other way out, Steve was throwing punches, his strength matching that of the men chasing them. But Bucky was cornered, he felt weak and scarred and _please, no, please, I wasn’t trying to escape, please…_

His foot slipped and he fell through the door from the carriage. His arm flung out to grab anything, the train, and he held on tightly to metal as the train veered on its tracks. He couldn’t hold on for long. 

Then Steve was reaching out the door.

“Bucky! I’ve got you!” His voice was so quiet in the wind. “I’m going to get you out of this!”

“You can’t!” Bucky yelled.

Steve reached, his fingertips almost within grasp but Bucky couldn’t take his hand.

But it was too late, the train jolted, Bucky’s hand slipped and he fell.

A sharp inhale and he was back in bed, looking up at the ceiling and waiting for the night to be over.

At least being awake half the night gave him the opportunity to think about what Steve had said.

It was futile. Impossible. Bucky decided not to get his hopes up. Not to pin his freedom on Steve but instead do his job.

If HYDRA found out what Steve was trying to do, he would quickly find himself in a world of pain. Steve was in their game now, his safest option was to play along.

And if HYDRA found out that Bucky knew about any of this, he would be punished too. They would take another limb and put him out on the street, or they’d kill him. Bucky thought the latter was most likely. Other escorts went missing all the time. Just disappeared like they were never there. This was how HYDRA had stayed undetected for so long, they didn’t do loose ends.

No. Bucky needed to think about himself and what would be best for him.

He decided this would be to get Steve on his side. If he could just seduce Steve, then perhaps Steve would continue to pay for him and keep him with him. That way, everyone would be happy and Bucky would be safer than if he was back at HYDRA.

Steve obviously had the money. If Steve just paid for Bucky to stay then HYDRA would trust him and never reveal the dirty dealings his business was now caught up in.

Bucky would have his own room, delicious food, designer clothes, his own shower. Whatever he had to endure with Steve, whatever kind of toy Steve wanted him to be, it would be worth it. 

Bucky already knew Steve had had relationships with men. Bucky already knew that with some care and attention he could make himself very appealing. He was skilled in the art of entertaining and pleasure and this was the card he had to play. 

Most importantly, Steve seemed to have some kind of soft spot for Bucky. If he already wanted to help Bucky and felt sympathy for him because he felt he knew the guy, Bucky would be halfway there. 

Clearly Steve was the type to rescue strays and as much as Bucky hated it, he could be a stray… a lost, hurt boy, just looking for a prince to save him.

Yes. This would be the best option. Steve was younger and better looking than so many of Bucky’s clients. Steve didn’t seem like the kind of man who would take pleasure in a person's pain. Bucky felt he could at least confidently rule out rape or violence. Perhaps even over time he could grow to like Steve.

That didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Bucky was taking control of his own life. His moves were limited, but he was still in the game.

*

Bucky took his time in the bathroom, first getting to grips with using a new space with only his right arm and then using all of the products that Nat had bought for him. Everything boasted a deep musky smell and he hated to admit how much he liked it. He combed his hair and tried all of the creams and balms. 

At the wardrobe he contemplated joggers as they were always so much easier to slip on, but jeans would hug his hips and legs and show off the shape of his body better. Nat had somehow managed to guess his sizings correctly and although it look a few minutes to tug the button closed on the Levis, they were the nicest jeans he had ever worn. He liked the neutral, dark colour scheme Nat had chosen too. Bucky didn’t think about fashion or clothes too often because he had no money to spend on them. His life consisted of a room with no windows, being passed around from client to client at all hours, getting over whatever pain was inflicted upon him and perhaps even a visit to Zola who substituted for their ER to get patched or stitched up after some lowlife decided it would be entertaining to beat him up after sex or fuck him with the stem of a champagne bottle with no lube what so ever. The memories made Bucky feel sick for almost a moment. But that was all he had, over and over, night or day there was no time, only the job and if he was lucky he had time to piss and shower and eat between the nightmares.

Bucky sat on the bed and took a breath. Could he do this? Could he play this role and get Steve on his side? All he had known for the past twenty-six years was pain and tears and feeling like nothing. 

That’s what he was. That was why he would never survive outside of HYDRA. Because he was a disgusting slut, a warm mouth, a cum bucket. No one would ever want to be near him. How could Steve ever want someone like that?

But he had to try.

He contemplated staying in bed the rest of the day and hiding but Bucky didn’t want time alone or time to think, to contemplate all the things he didn’t have and never would.

Instead, he got up and picked out a black hoodie with a CK logo. Once it was on he pushed his arm up through the inside of the sweater so that he could pull the empty arm inside out to sit against his t-shirt, that way it wouldn’t hang loose or snag on anything. 

Smelling great and dressed like someone he almost didn’t recognise, he made his way out of the room, down the hallway, past the guest bathroom and into the kitchen.

*

It was empty. 

As was the dining room and sitting room. Bucky made his way carefully up the spiral staircase and knocked on Steve’s office door.

There was no response.

Bucky gently pressed the handle and went inside. There was nothing but the soft light of the grey day shining in, Bucky looked out at the city. It seemed a little misty, maybe it would rain.

He left the office and knocked gently on the studio door before peering in. 

Steve's head was bowed over and his hand worked its way across paper, sketching lightly, something Bucky couldn’t quite make out.

“Good morning,” Steve gave a small, almost guilty smile.

Bucky forced himself to return it.

“You weren’t in your office.”

“It’s a Sunday.”

Bucky nodded. Of course, most people didn’t work Sundays, especially not the rich.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you…”

“Of course not. Bucky... about last night, I need to apologize-” Steve began to say but Bucky held up a hand to signal him to stop.

“I should apologise.” Bucky began, stepping slowly into the room and perching on the small leather couch. 

Steve shook his head but Bucky continued. 

“I was confused and angry and as I’m sure you can understand, trusting people is not something I’m accustomed to.”

“Bucky…” Steve began and Bucky held up his hand again.

He sighed, “Steve… Will you have breakfast with me?”

That wasn't what Steve was expecting to hear. He had clearly upset Bucky the night before but now… as with the new day, Bucky seemed to feel differently about things. At least, Steve hoped he did.

Bucky gave Steve his kindest smile, his eyes wide. He looked great and couldn’t stop that image rising to the top of his mind, the memory of Bucky’s lips on his own.

“Yes.” Steve steadied himself. “Of course.”

Bucky gave a grin then and led the way back into the kitchen.

“What would you like?” Steve asked.

“What are you having?”

“I’ve already eaten.”

“Oh…” Bucky bit his lip. 

“Coffee?” Steve asked.

“I’ll get it.”

Both Steve and Bucky arrived in front of the coffee maker at the same time and although Steve seemed to blush a little and step back, Bucky just smiled and held his position. He found a mug in the cupboard overhead and the pot was still hot.

“I can make you something,” Steve suggested.

“You?” Bucky said with a smirk. “I thought you had a personal chef or something?”

“It’s just me today. It’s kind of hard to mess up breakfast food.”

Bucky pressed a finger to his lip and thought for a moment… he didn’t really care too much what he ate but he wanted to keep Steve around and talking, naturally.

“Do you need a menu?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

Out of nowhere, Bucky remembered the TV show Steve and he had been watching the night before and the regular references to breakfast foods.

“I’ve… never had waffles before. Can you make those?”

“Never?” Steve asked and Bucky took a seat at the island opposite Steve and watched as he moved about the kitchen finding ingredients.

“Never… If it wasn’t obvious yesterday I’m not used to this kind of luxury.”

“I wouldn’t call waffles a luxury…” Steve said, “But I’m privileged, so I guess my opinion doesn’t count.”

Bucky laughed. He watched as Steve went about making batter and then pulling out a waffle iron he had in a cupboard. He plugged it in and before Bucky knew it his nose was filled with the wonderful smell of crisp batter and a small stack of waffles awaited him.

Steve made himself a coffee while Bucky went about topping his breakfast with whipped cream and maple syrup and strawberries just as he’d watched Leslie Knope do.

Steve watched happily as Bucky tucked in, his face lighting up with each mouthful. The way he cut the waffle with his fork then stabbed it before devouring each mouthful. 

“What do you think?” Steve asked.

“Like pancakes but… different.” Bucky smiled. “Thank you. I love them.”

Steve’s expression was confused but he laughed anyway. “You’re welcome.”

“So what is a usual Sunday like with Steve Rogers? Please tell me it’s more exciting than your Saturday nights.” Bucky smirked.

“I guess it’s not…” Steve blushed and sipped his coffee. “Sometimes church, sometimes a walk in the park, sometimes I sketch or practice my piano.”

“No dates?”

“Not right now… Sometimes Nat will organise something… a charity fundraiser, golf with shareholders... but really it’s incredibly boring.”

“Well your most recent charity case is right here!”

Steve’s smile dropped. “ _Buck, I don’t see you-_ ” He began but Bucky just laughed.

“I’m kidding!” Bucky gave a smug grin. “But if you want to take pity on me and make a donation I wouldn’t say no to more cream.”

Steve sat frozen for a moment, then got up to get the canister back out of the fridge. He set it down for Bucky.

Once the lid was off, Bucky upended the can straight into his mouth and filled it with fresh cream which got Steve laughing again. His cheeks ballooned outwards with the contents of his mouth and he struggled to close his mouth and swallow it all.

“You want some?” Bucky asked when he would talk again.

“I’m good.” Steve smiled his polite smile with the little head tilt that Bucky was starting to pick up on. The way Steve lifted his chin out and to the side a little. 

“I think you do,” Bucky said casually, getting up and strolling toward Steve. 

Steve backed away a little on his stool.

“Thanks but no thanks,” Steve said.

Bucky jumped up onto the island counter, swinging his legs over the edge and leaning over Steve.

“Oh c’mon. Have some.”

“Bucky....” Steve shook his head.

“It’s delicious.” Bucky said as he tried to aim the can at Steve’s face.

“No. No. _No. No!”_ Bucky laughed as cream shot out from the can onto Steve's cheek.

He was saying no but struggling not to laugh.

“Bucky!” He exclaimed as he almost fell off of his stool backing away. Bucky shrugged, stifling his laughter. 

Steve wiped at his face and pulled sheets of kitchen towel off the roll to wipe his hands.

“You have a little something…” Bucky innocently gestured at his own cheek.

“Is that so?”

“I guess I’ll just stick to my putting it on my waffles…” Bucky sighed and went back to his seat. “I bet you’d taste even better though…”

Steve froze, his face turning red.

“ _Please_ \- Stop flirting with me.”

“I’m just in a good mood!” Bucky smiled, batting his lashes. “And I flirt with everyone. I wasn’t flirty the last time we met?”

Steve’s face was now clean but still a little red with heat and he sat back down at the island.

“You were… sarky…” Steve couldn’t help a small smile blossom on his face. “You made fun of me…”

“Sounds like it was me…”

“But flirting? I don’t know… we were young, I wasn’t even sure I understood what flirting was at thirteen.”

“Bless you.” Bucky laughed, finishing up the last few mouthfuls on his plate. “I would have been flirting… or at least teasing… there’s so doubt about it, you’re exactly my type.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he almost spat out his mouthful of coffee.

Bucky wasn’t being strictly honest here. In truth, he had no idea if he had a type. And he’d spent most of his puberty and early adult life as a live sex doll for others.

What Bucky liked sexually or who Bucky was attracted to was never really a question he had considered too much. 

He’d had a lot of sex, and some of it he’d even found pleasurable and fun. But it was never Bucky in charge, never Bucky taking the lead or making the choices. He was never able to say no… and as such he didn’t know when he wanted to say yes. 

Eventually Bucky just forgot about it as dating and having sex for fun was not exactly something he had the freedom to do. He belonged to HYDRA and they made the choices for him. 

But he supposed after a little consideration that Steve was conventionally attractive. He had nice eyes, pink lips and a muscular body. He definitely looked like a model you might see in a cologne or underwear ad. His hair was thick and cut in a fashionable style. And there was nothing about him that innately put Bucky off. 

So he lied. Men liked to be flattered. And Bucky wanted Steve to like him. 

“I told you before…” Steve said, “I looked a lot different back then.”

“Show me a picture.” Bucky suggested. 

“I’d rather not.” 

“But it might jog my memory.”

“I don’t know…”

“ _Please_ , Steve.” Bucky’s smile faded. “Meeting you isn’t the only thing I can’t remember from… before… I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to stop yourself.”

Bucky gave Steve a pleasing look and finally Steve nodded and Bucky followed him into the sitting room. 

Steve pulled down a frame from one of the shelves and handed it to Bucky. 

It was a family photo, Steve’s mother and father and little Steve in the middle. 

“This was not long after we met…” Steve said sitting down on the arm on the couch, his shoulders a little drawn in, his gaze downward.

“Wow. You look so…”

“You can say it.”

“ _Young_.” Bucky announced. “And so cute…”

Bucky admired the photo of the smiling kid between two beaming parents, their arms around him, posing for the camera in front of the sea somewhere.

“You can be honest.”

“About what? Everyone is small as a kid… that’s what puberty is for.” Bucky laughed. “You’ve definitely filled out your clothes now.”

“I was trying to look cool, I… I don’t know what kind of look I was going for.”

“I was friends with this guy?” Bucky laughed, pointing again at the photo. 

“We only ever met once but yes. I considered us friends.”

“Met once?” Bucky moved to sit on the couch.

“We hung out for a day. Got food, watched some baseball, it was fun.”

“It was a date?” Bucky raised one eyebrow.

“It was not a date,” Steve laughed, shaking his head slowly.

“Did you have a crush on me?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“It must have been a date. We hung out for one day in 2003 and you still remember me? I must have been pretty hilarious for you to remember that after all this time.”

“ _I_ ,” Steve emphasised, “Was the hilarious one. As I remember you spent most of the time eating.”

Bucky beamed. “The evidence does keep suggesting it was me. But the point is, you have the same eyes, and hair, and mouth. Cute then, cute now.”

Steve leaned forward and took the photo from Bucky’s hand.

“I preferred it when you made fun of me.” 

“I can do that too if you’d prefer. Only one day huh? You not have any friends or somethin’?”

Steve put the photo back up and turned to perch on the couch.

“Yes. I didn’t have any friends.”

Bucky’s smile dropped. “Oh.”

“It’s fine.” Steve smiled. I was a loner. I liked that.”

“But you liked me, too?” Bucky said quietly.

“I guess I did.”

“Why did we only hang out once?”

Steve shrugged. “We made plans to meet up again the next weekend but you weren’t there. I didn’t have a number or an address for you…”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. All these years I thought you didn’t show because like everyone else you realised how weird and lame I was but now…” Steve gestured toward Bucky with his hand. “I’m starting to think you didn’t have a choice in not coming to meet me… Like you said, you were fourteen when HYDRA found you…”

“I wish I could remember, for sure…”

“It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t sad for very long.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I just meant that I assumed you found better things to do and well, I guess I just grew up.”

“Still…” Bucky said, getting up and moving to sit beside Steve. “It still sucks… I wish I could remember…”

“What _do_ you remember?” Steve turned to face Bucky, “If you don’t mind me asking…” He quickly added.

“Honestly… I don’t know. I have these images, these flashes but… I don’t know if they’re memories or just dreams I had once… I can’t tell the two apart.”

“Why do you think that is? That you can’t remember?”

“You really want to know?” Bucky gave a short laugh.

Steve’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“HYDRA, Steve… HYDRA is the reason I can’t remember… I… I don’t want to go into it.”

“They hurt you…?”

“Steve, _please_ ,” Bucky looked up into Steve’s wide eyes. “Don’t make me talk about it.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Besides… I’m here with you now aren’t I?” Bucky gave Steve his best coy look from beneath his lashes and hoped that Steve was believing his act. “I can trust you… you’re going to get me out.”

“I am.”

Bucky smiled. He wanted to do something, touch Steve, lean forward and show affection, appreciation but… be wasn’t sure how Steve would feel about it. He needed to take this slow, at Steve’s pace, for it to be believable. 

By the end of the week he would have Steve crushing on him, he was already convinced it was possible with the way Steve blushed so hard at his flirting. 

Clearly Steve didn’t mind his company and Bucky spent the rest of the day asking Steve about his artwork and Steve even showed him a few of his finished pieces. Beautiful landscape paintings of the New York skyline and the ocean. Bucky asked Steve to talk him through his book collection and although Bucky thought he would be bored to death it was actually rather interesting. 

Steve would randomly point out a book then pull it from the shelf and place it in Bucky’s hand with swift excitement. Of course, he recommended Bucky read every one and some of them actually sounded quite interesting, star crossed lovers, murder mysteries, ghosts and vampires. After a while Bucky had to adjust his pile so that it balanced against his chest.

“You remember I only have one arm, right?” He joked and Steve quickly began to take the books from Bucky’s grip. “I’m fine!” He protested but Steve mumbled something about how it was enough to be getting on with and he would set them aside for Bucky if he wanted to borrow them…

“No pressure.” Steve looked almost nervous. In a way he was… it was a vulnerable thing to recommend a book. Like you were exposing a part of yourself in the hopes that the other person enjoys the story as much as you did and if they don’t it's like a personal reflection of your taste. He took a breath. It probably wasn’t that deep for other people, right?

*

In the evening the pair enjoyed chinese food in front of the TV again and in a way Bucky loved it. He could actually get used to this. It was so chill and yet fun at the same time. 

Nat popped by with more supplies for Bucky. Bags of more clothes and shoes, as well as a cellphone and a laptop that she promised to help him set up the next day when Bucky revealed he’d never actually owned either.

He was also starting to learn Steve’s viewing habits. It was clear he didn’t like to watch TV often and was probably doing it to humour Bucky. Steve seemed to enjoy nature documentaries and the news but Bucky was able to persuade him to put that show on again, the one with the parks lady and the waffles. 

Steve laughed at this and nodded and Bucky found himself laughing at the strange and odd scenarios the characters found themselves. 

“ _And_ … it’s shot like a documentary,” Bucky said to Steve, “So we’re both happy.”

In a way Steve couldn’t disagree and after a while of offering Bucky more beer and fortune cookies (for some reason Steve found it hilarious the way Bucky had to smash them open against the table to get the fortune out and Bucky just mumbled about how Steve could laugh but he wasn’t cleaning it up.), Bucky fell asleep, his head tipped back softly into the plump couch cushions. 

It was getting late and Steve turned the TV down to quiet background noise, covered Bucky with a thick throw and left on a few lamps before making his own way to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put slow burn in the tags for a reason :')


	6. Six - April 2019

The next morning when Steve woke the couch was empty. 

The blanket was folded and put away neatly, as if no one had been there.

But when he entered the kitchen he found an already dressed Bucky and Nat huddled over an iPhone. 

The room smelled of fresh pastries and coffee which Steve assumed Nat had picked up on her way to work. Days like this always made Steve smile, if he was paying for breakfast anyway, of course she was going to treat herself to the best. 

A half eaten pain au chocolat sat discarded next to Bucky and the pair barely looked up from their chatting as Steve took a seat at the island, looking out at the clear day over the city and helped himself to a croissant and some preserves. 

“Good morning,” Steve smiled in his most polite morning voice.

Bucky gave a small smile and Nat immediately jumped up.

“Steve,” She began, “I’ve been speaking with the lawyers and I’m going speak to Sam today to see if he has any updates.”

Bucky’s face looked suddenly pale.

“Don’t worry.” Nat said confidently, “It’s all extremely confidential. They only know hypotheticals and nothing about you personally. They’ve put me in touch with other human rights lawyers with contact info that isn’t connected to Steve in any way so even if HYDRA seemed suspicious they shouldn’t be able to pick up anything yet.”

Steve nodded.

“I have a few things I need you to look over today, Cap, and there are some appointments in your calendar,” Nat continued.

At this moment Steve began to pull out his work phone and skim the email subjects and invites to meetings. He hated that it was all here is his pocket, always following him around.

“But overall, it looks like a quiet Monday.” 

“And this?” Steve gestured at the Apple boxes out in front of him.

Nat turned back to Bucky. “Well you will need to be set up with some online accounts, an email etc… Bucky here had never had a phone before.”

Steve stayed silent and Bucky simply shrugged and pulled his plate back over so that he could continue to ravish the pain au chocolat left on it.

Although Steve pulled his eyes away occasionally to not seem creepy or weird he couldn’t help but love the way Bucky’s expressions changed every time his took a bite. Steve knew it was the soft flaky pastry, the sweetness of the chocolate and the buttery taste all combined to create the most wonderful baked treat. Bucky’s eyes would widen, then close, he would smile and nod and relish the flavour.

It was like a child discovering ice cream. It was so visceral and Steve wanted to melt at how cute it was, especially as it reminded him so much of Bucky in that diner when they were teenagers.

“I have a car waiting when you’re ready, Steve.” Nat said.

“Oh…” Bucky looked up at them both, “You’re leaving?”

“Only for a few hours,” Nat smiled slightly, “and I’ll be back to help you with this.”

Bucky turned his eyes to Steve who was standing and putting his plate in the sink.

Steve was going to work, he would probably be gone the entire day, leaving Bucky here alone. As much as he felt safe here, he couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. But more importantly, how was Bucky supposed to get in Steve’s good books if he wasn’t around?

If Bucky was to get close to Steve, close enough to create some feeling, in the small amount of time they had, Bucky knew he needed close proximity and time alone.

He’d already started thinking about how best to befriend Steve, and how he was going to play to the advantage he had.

This advantage was that Steve knew Bucky, or atleast, had spent some time with him in the past. Steve liked _that Bucky_ , and clearly remembered him fondly, _so fondly_ in fact that he was risking his own business to get Bucky out of HYDRA’s grasp.

This was what Bucky needed to use. Bucky needed to be himself - what little of that was left - the person he was alone, the person unaffected by HYDRA. If he could just show a little part of who he was, rather than the dead-eyed robot he forced himself to become when he was with clients, then maybe Steve would recognise it and Bucky could use that fondness to get Steve to pay HYDRA to keep him.

But they only had a week and Steve was going to work. Steve stood waiting for Bucky to say something.

His shoulders hunched around him and he looked up at Steve from below his lashes. He couldn’t help but tap his fingers against his thigh.

Steve watched, was it disappointment on Bucky’s face?

Steve stepped toward him and gently said, “You’re safe here.”

Bucky looked up at the tall blonde man who seemed to tower above him.

“Steve…” It was almost a whisper and Nat looked away awkwardly. 

Steve was so close and Bucky wanted to reach out and take his hand but he knew it would be too much too quickly. 

Instead he traced the edge of the island counter with his free finger, stopping just centimeters from where Steve stood beside it. Bucky widened his eyes, hoping that Steve would see his plea.

Steve hated how sad Bucky looked. Like a child being left in the dark. Was he really that worried about being here alone? Or was this just an act? Steve reminded himself that the Bucky he knew before didn’t do ‘acts’ or ‘cool’ or ‘liked’, he just did whatever wanted.

“Nat, please send me everything you need my eyes on and can you let my appointments know I’ll be working from home? I’ll be available for meetings via conference call.”

For a second Nat’s expression was blank, then she nodded, smiled and gathered up her things.

“And… I’ll help Bucky set up this stuff…”

“You sure?” Nat did not seem convinced that Steve could work the tech.

Steve nodded, Nat returned it and with a smooth, “ _Bye boys_ …” She picked up her bag and left for the day.

Bucky stood and stepped toward Steve.

“Thank you…” He said quietly.

Steve just gave a small smile.

*

After breakfast, Bucky assured Steve he could entertain himself while Steve worked and as such Steve excused himself for his office.

As much as Bucky wanted to join him up there he assured himself that he would give Steve some space, then go and find him with the excuse that he had said he would help Bucky set up his new laptop and cellphone. 

Bucky sat alone for a while in the sitting room just thinking about that… _his own laptop and cellphone_. They were both modern, new models that Bucky had seen some of his wealthy clients use. Bucky had ever owned or been given anything so expensive. Yes, Nat had filled his closet with more designer items but these things just seemed even more impressive. 

Bucky thought back to the occasional nice dinners he had been treated to by clients, or the old suit that Rumlow had bought him to meet up with wealthy customers in more public places. He spent a lot of time in hotels and although they would sometimes order him room service or some nice alcohol, the fanciest thing Bucky ever came away with was some hotel shampoos and soaps.

He didn’t want mementos anyway. Many of those nights would end in hangovers, comedowns or straight up pain. Sometimes just the familiar musty smell of a hotel room would make him feel a little sick, and when he couldn’t fully relax and clock out of his own body, the experience was always way worse. 

Luckily, Bucky was here and had a large TV to keep him occupied.

After a little while of discovering a multitude of terrible daytime TV shows, a friendly faced blonde woman appeared in the doorway.

Bucky sat up like a bolt.

The woman gave a small wave, smiled and said, “Hi… Nat told me Steve had a friend to stay… I’m Sharon,”

She held out a hand for Bucky to shake. She wore plain bottoms and a white short sleeve chefs jacket that was fitted around her small waist.

“Hello…” Bucky said hesitantly, wondering why no one had warned him about any random people that might show up in the apartment.

He tried to smile and shook her hand.

“Nat said you were a friend from college?” She perched herself on the arm of the couch. “You must have some hilariously embarrassing stories about Steve you can share with me.”

Bucky forced a laugh. “Ha. Yeah… we go way back…”

She must have sensed his slight unease because she nodded politely and excused herself on the note that she had plenty to get on with in the kitchen.

A few minutes after she’d gone Bucky decided to make up an excuse about needing coffee and when she smiled as he poured himself a cup he offered her one and said he would go ask if Steve wanted one too. She eyed the dead space where Bucky’s missing arm should have been but luckily didn’t make a comment or offer any help.

He tried not to rush up the spiral staircase, she seemed nice enough and there was no way someone from HYDRA would just walk in so casually.

Bucky knocked gently on the office door and turned the handle. He peered around and although Steve was clearly on a call he nodded at Bucky casually to suggest he should come in. 

Bucky closed the door and took a seat on the other side of Steve’s screen in a vintage style armchair that was tilted towards the window and the city.

Would Bucky ever be able to get used to a view like this? It almost made him forget what he had come up here for.

Every now and then he would glance over to Steve and watch him confidently talk through things Bucky didn’t have the slightest clue about. He looked incredibly smart and professional in his white shirt and grey blazer. Bucky had to give himself a small reminder that being attracted to Steve Rogers was not a smart move, especially if his plan failed and he ended up alone fantasizing about a billionaire who wouldn’t look twice at him for fear of ruining his own reputation.

The call ended and Steve seemed to relax a little, taking off his jacket and letting his shoulders slouch a little.

“Is everything ok?” He asked Bucky, who swivelled around from the window to face him.

“Yes. I’m sorry for interrupting you like this.”

Steve smiled and held up a reassuring palm.

“There’s a blonde woman in your kitchen… very pretty… says her name is Ssss… something…?”

Steve’s expression was confused and then he gave a large smile and said, “Sharon?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Steve laughed a little. “She’s my nutritionist and my personal chef… she comes by a few days a week to make me some meals or cook me dinner…”

“Oh.” Bucky blushed a little.

“I’m sorry. Nat or I should have reminded you. We have a housekeeper too who comes by twice a week to clean. Zack, nice guy… but you know what… I’m going to have Nat postpone…” Steve began searching his desk for his phone. 

“It’s alright… she didn’t seem like a HYDRA agent…” Bucky laughed.

“I can assure you she’s trustworthy, she’s never poisoned me... yet.”

“A nutritionist… that must be how you stay in great shape… that and the gym.”

Steve had finally found his phone hidden under some project briefs and the comment caught him off guard. He blushed and the phone slipped from his hands and landed back on the desk with a hard thud.

“Besides the weekend take out, yes, I do like to keep an eye on what I eat.” Steve avoided Bucky’s gaze.

Bucky ran his eyes over Steve’s desks and the papers on it.

“I thought CEO’s just let everyone else do the work while they lounged on yachts and ate caviar.” Bucky said, trying not to remember the times rich old men had taken him out on their boats.

“Maybe I would if I had a yacht.” Steve smiled. “I like to be busy. There’s nothing more satisfying than a hard day's work.”

“I could name a few things,” Bucky said, giving a smirk and causing Steve to laugh but look away.

“The company is expanding a lot right now…” Steve quickly began, clearing his throat and changing the subject. “It’s important that I have the right people in the right places.”

“Expanding how?”

Steve bit his lip slightly. Should he be telling Bucky this?

He decided he had to trust Bucky. And if Steve was finally going to help him win his freedom then perhaps he and Bucky could even remain friends. He admitted to himself that eventually, one day, if Bucky was never able to remember on his own, Steve would have to tell him about his life before, his homelessness and how they had spent the day together.

“We’re expanding into new areas of research. More technology, more medicine.”

“And you like this work?”

Steve sighed. “You saw my studio… I’m not a tech guy… or a science guy… I…” He wasn’t sure why he was opening up like this to Bucky but when he looked at him, those pale grey eyes and strong jaw… All he could see was that boy in the alley, the one who helped him through his asthma attack and told him that even though his parents felt distant now, they probably loved him more than anything in the whole world. And Bucky was right. 

When Steve looked at Bucky, even with his missing arm and anxious demeanour, all of the HYDRA stuff just faded away and they were kids again.

“I wanted to be an artist.” Steve admitted, for perhaps only the fourth or fifth time in his life. “But my father built this business for me. For his family, to pull us out of the life we were living in. My father wanted to change the world, and do great things, my mother at his side. The pair of them worked hard, my mother especially, so that more and more profits could be paid toward charities in New York. Charities local to us, that had helped us out when times had been tough. They were both strong and compassionate and even though it’s not art… I want to be those things in my work.”

Bucky listened intently. Steve seemed to speak so clearly and concise but with such emotion too.

“I grew up a sick kid. I had a multitude of problems. That’s why I was so small. Even when I hit puberty, I was the skinny, weak, short of breath kid. But technology, medicine, science, the things my parents worked on… I owe so much of my health to that. Because now…” Steve gestured toward himself.

“You have the ultimate summer bod.” Bucky teased.

Steve rolled his eyes but laughed too. “Yes. I do. So that’s why I like to be involved… yes, it’s my company and I may be the _big guy_... but I’ve been the little guy too. As long as I’m here, at the company, the mission stays the same. Help people.”

Bucky had to smile at that. It was cheesy. Like something out of a family movie… not that he’d watched a huge amount of those. But shit. Steve Rogers was actually a good guy. 

This would be trickier than Bucky expected.

*

Bucky finally offered Steve that coffee, and when he arrived back in Steve’s office with the hot mug, he made himself comfortable in the armchair again.

Steve said nothing, typing away slowly at his keyboard. Bucky seemed suddenly interested in the cars on the road and the birds in the sky.

Bucky thought he could watch the city all day. He thought about how nice it would be to walk in the park through the rain. He rarely spent any time outdoors and was very accustomed to life inside but if he actually had freedom, just going for a walk in the park would be easy.

Bucky wanted to talk to Steve more, ask more questions about his parents and his past but after what Steve had said he almost didn’t want to disturb his work.

Bucky went to the studio and picked one of the books from the pile that Steve had recommended him. Then he returned to the office, sat by the window and began to read. Bucky ignored Steve’s eyes watching him, wondering what he was doing but Bucky didn’t want to go and sit in a room alone, so he carried on, waiting for Steve to comment, but he never did.

The morning passed into the afternoon and Steve finally stopped working for a late lunch.

Sharon was still in the kitchen when they went down and Steve greeted her with his usual polite charm that Bucky was starting to recognise. She was putting cooked meats and vegetables into little boxes ready to be stocked up in the fridge. The room smelled of amazing aromatic curry spices and garlic.

She happily plated up some for Steve and Bucky and they ate quietly while Bucky listened to the pair chat about Sharon’s life and mutual friends.

“ _So…_ ” Sharon smiled at Bucky, “Are you going to tell me what Steve was like in college? I heard a few stories from Peggy, did you ever meet Peggy?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Bucky did some study abroad.” Steve quickly chimed in.

Sharon nodded but still kept her eyes wide on Bucky.

“Oh you know it was just the usual.” Bucky turned to Steve, brows raised. “A lot of drinking and parties.”

“Really Steve? _You_?” Sharon said.

“I know I’m not the party type but I attended a few.”

“Oh yeah.” Bucky agreed. “He had to be dragged out, he did, face always in a book.” Bucky laughed and Steve made a, _what are you saying?_ face.

“I bet.” Sharon nodded and began to clean up the kitchen. Clearly she believed it.

*

When they had finished Sharon’s incredible cooking she informed them that she had moved Bucky’s things that were in the kitchen into the dining room and on this note Bucky asked Steve if they could go through it.

It quickly became clear to Bucky that perhaps Nat had offered to go through this stuff for a reason.

How hard could it be? Steve thought. But an hour later he was mumbling under his breath while Bucky couldn’t help but watch on and laugh.

“I thought you were the CEO of a tech company?” 

A somewhat stressed Steve was clicking away at the buttons on the new laptop.

“Remember what I said earlier about ‘putting the right people in the right places’? I know where my strengths lie.”

“Clearly not here…”

“It’s simple, I just have to finish the set up.”

“I thought you were a nerd… I guess you still are.... Just a different type of nerd.”

“You know there’s other things I could be doing with my time.”

Bucky, who had been sat with his feet crossed up on the table, gently lowered them down.

“I’m just kidding.” He smiled. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…” Steve sat back from the laptop while it did another installing-some-kind-of-update-restart. 

“Said what?” Bucky asked, moving to sit beside Steve.

Steve looked down at the laptop. “Just about doing other things with my time… you’re here because of me… and I want to help you.”

“So what you’re saying is, I can make fun of you and it’s cool? Because you brought this on yourself?”

Steve let out a big sigh and shook his head.

“It looks great Stevie, you’re already way ahead of where I would be.”

“ _Stevie_?”

“No one’s ever called you that?”

“They have not.”

“But you’re so cute, you need a cute nickname.”

“Steve is my nickname.”

“How can your name also be your nickname? No. I like Stevie.”

“Are you actually going to call me that?” Steve turned to meet Bucky’s eyes. It was obvious he was trying to hold back the small smile that was creeping up his face.

“Yes. You call me Bucky… which I’m still getting used to… and I’ll call you Stevie.”

“All the time?” 

“Only when you’re extra cute. Like now. Getting frustrated over this laptop.”

“I’m not frustrated.”

“Of course you’re not Stevie.”

Steve decided he needed to let it go and finally, they were able to set up the laptop with wifi, the cellphone with wifi and cell service, along with an email account for Bucky and an Apple account that was connected to Steve’s.

“But no purchases. I cannot make this clear enough. No purchases without asking me. If I get charges under _James Barnes_ it just wouldn’t look great.”

“In the press?” 

Steve decided to ignore this. “And before you ask, there's plenty of free… _you know_ … online. So don’t think about buying any.”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

“ _Bucky_.” Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _You do_.”

“I don't,” Bucky continued to grin.

“I’m not saying it.”

“Well I guess I’ll just have to take my chances then…”

“ _Bucky…_ ” Steve warned.

“ _Stevie…_ ” Bucky chimed back.

“Porn! Ok! Porn.” Steve dramatically wiped his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Bucky was trying so hard to hold in his laugh.

“I know…” Bucky finally said. “I knew what you were talking about.” He mumbled quietly.

At which point, Steve got up and left the room to Bucky’s roaring laughter.

*

That evening was similar to the last. 

No take out this time. Steve explained that during the week he tried to eat the best he could and although he said that Bucky was welcome to order in, Bucky agreed to eat healthily too.

Sharon had kindly made extra’s for Steve’s guest and the food was so great it didn’t taste healthy to Bucky.

He wondered if Sharon had been responsible for the breakfast he’d enjoyed so much on his first morning here and he made a mental note to compliment her on her talents if or when he saw her again.

“So what’s the deal with you and Sharon then?”

“What do you mean?” Steve responded, finishing a mouthful.

Steve and Bucky were now on the same couch, the one directly in front of the television, and Bucky took this as a sign that Steve was slowly getting used to Bucky in his space.

“Well you know… the flirting...”

Steve suddenly coughed and some rice flew out of his mouth back into the bowl he was holding.

“Careful there big boy…” Bucky laughed a little, patting Steve on the back who was now taking a large glug of water from his glass. (Alcohol was also mostly reserved for weekends too.)

Steve regained his composure and although he was a little red in the face asked, “What flirting?”

“I thought the innocent routine was an act but now I’m starting to wonder if you’re actually that naive.”

“I don’t flirt with Sharon.”

“She’s definitely flirting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, two adults can be friends and not date.”

“Fine. I’ll take your word for it. I was just picking up on what I saw is all.”

In truth, Sharon could have just been incredibly friendly, which, along with Steve’s super friendliness, could easily have been mistaken for flirting. But honestly, Bucky just wanted to see how Steve reacted, if Sharon was an actual threat to any feeling Bucky might earn from Steve and the more Bucky teased Steve, the easier it was to flirt with Steve himself. 

“I’ve known Sharon a long time, she’s my ex's cousin, so trust me, I would never go there.”

“Well I suppose it’s hard for people not to flirt with you, even by accident. I speak from experience... you're very handsome.”

“Ha. Ha.” Steve mocked.

“Really. You look like an athlete and charm like the prom king, when really Stevie, you’re just an adorable nerd.”

“You know I’m not insulted by that.”

“You weren’t supposed to be.”

“Then why does it sound like you’re making fun of me?”

“I thought that was what I did? Years ago… I made fun of you and we became friends.”

Steve laughed. “I guess so...”

“But I wasn’t making fun.” Bucky said, in the most serious tone he could muster. “I think you’re lovely.”

Steve couldn’t help but blush again and look away and perhaps it sounded so genuine out of Bucky’s mouth because he was actually telling the truth. He was really starting to think that Steve had found him by some kind of miracle.

Steve suddenly made himself busy clearing dishes and taking them out into the kitchen. Why was he suddenly so overwhelmed? If things were different, if Steve had ran into Bucky at a Starbucks and got talking and recognised him from years ago then Bucky still liking him after all would be what he hoped for.

But how could he trust this? How could he trust what HYDRA had done to James? How did Steve know if Bucky was telling the truth, or saying those things because that’s what he was conditioned to do. They had clearly done such a number on him… to the point where the guy only had one arm, half his memories and strange fear of being alone. Steve thought that even if Bucky was telling the truth, how would he know the difference? If HYDRA had drilled some sick kind of training into him with pain and torture.

Above all, Steve hated how he kind of liked it. He hated how his memory of that boy and the best day got in the way, how the kiss they shared as teenagers clouded his judgement. 

And so against his better reasoning, Steve joined Bucky on the couch again, stayed beside him all evening, chatting and laughing. Then Steve read his book while Bucky continued with the one he had stated that morning. 

And Steve didn’t leave. Instead he just sat beside Bucky, enjoying his presence and reading until his eyelids could no longer stay open.


	7. Seven - April 2019

There was a large cough, a clearing of the throat and both Bucky and Steve’s eyes opened to see Nat looking down at them, a smug smile on her face.

Steve was lounging back on the couch, his head had fallen back over the cushion and Bucky was beside him, his head just resting on Steve’s shoulder. 

There was no other contact, but of course Nat couldn’t see that, because both men are cocooned in a huge wool blanket. Bucky remembered thinking how soft it was as he drifted to sleep the night before.

Nat’s hair was pulled back into a side braid, she wore her usual well fitted pant suit and both men immediately sat up and moved apart once they were awake enough to realise their position and her assumptions.

“Good morning, boys.” Nat smiled and walked away into the kitchen.

Briefly, the pair shared a glance, Steve blushed and Bucky gave a small smile too. The blanket fell away as he stretched, his muscles tensing and Steve looked away. He checked his phone, after 9AM, no wonder Nat was here.

“I’m going to… eat…” Steve mumbled awkwardly to Bucky who just nodded and continued to stretch his neck. 

As much as Bucky wanted to stay curled up on the world's comfiest couch he decided he needed a shower. 

Once again as he stood in his bathroom he admired all of the products Nat had bought for him, how good it all smelled, and the incredible water pressure. He couldn’t help but close his eyes under the spray and think about how cute Steve looked when they’d been caught on the couch this morning, his hair all stuck up at the back.

_ That _ was a thought he would need to halt. Yes, Steve was cute. But Bucky couldn’t let himself get distracted by his own lust. This wasn’t about liking Steve, but getting Steve to like him enough to keep him around. He sighed, rolled out the muscles that were still a little stiff from sleeping on a couch all night and tried to ignore how nice it was to sleep so close to Steve. To listen to his gentle breathing and focus on nothing else.

*

Once Bucky was out of the shower he joined Steve and Nat in the kitchen who were both finishing up breakfast.

“I don’t understand why you would just give Zack a week off without telling me, I could have got cover,” Nat mumbled as she piled dishes in the dishwasher.

Steve joined her to load his own.

“It was a last minute choice… besides one week isn’t going to turn the place into a dump.”

“When was the last time you really cleaned this kitchen?” Nat asked and Steve rolled his eyes.

Nat began scrolling through her phone and typing furiously on the screen and Steve came over to beside Bucky where he was sitting. 

“There are some things I’ve really got to do today… but just say the word and I’ll reschedule. I’ll be back for lunch.”

A part of Bucky hoped that Steve wanted to stay and hang out, but clearly Steve was just anxious after Bucky’s reaction yesterday.

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t worry about me… I’ll be fine.” Bucky gave a sweet smile for good measure and within half an hour Bucky was alone in the apartment.

He cleaned up the remaining dishes, ran the washer and poured away the old coffee. Then he figured to be extra helpful he would wipe down the sides and tidy up the kitchen.

He sat watching tv for half an hour, then tried to read but eventually couldn’t keep still. The apartment was so quiet.

Bucky pulled himself off the sofa and over to the record player. He flicked through the numerous vinyls to see if he could find anything he recognised. But he realised he didn’t know how to work a turntable and didn’t want to risk scratching any of the albums. Then he remembered he now had a laptop and a phone… he could probably play music on either of those.

Back at HYDRA, in what Bucky assumed was a converted house, he’d had a roommate named Josef. The pair had patched each other up a few times and when Bucky would lay awake at night, listening to him cry, sometimes he would offer him the candy that Bucky had swiped while he was out and managed to get back in without anyone else knowing.

Josef had a few great clients though, one had even bought him an iPod and for good behaviour, Crossbones had let him keep it.

Every now and then he would let Bucky borrow it, and Bucky would put in the headphones, curl up into his mattress in the corner and just listen to whatever played.

It was one of the small ones, without the screen, so Bucky had to guess the artists and the song titles but some he recognised. Even with his shitty memory, there was classic rock and some RnB from the 90s and somehow Bucky found he knew some of the words. He gravitated towards the rock and roll, because that was cooler, but every now and then he would let a slow song slide in, and find himself gently crying over a beautiful melody.

Even if he figured out Google on his phone… he wasn’t sure what to search.

Instead he just carried on looking over the shelves at the photo’s and ornaments, the books and small plants.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help himself. He left himself into Steve’s room and began slowly looking through the drawers.

It was mostly clothes. Modest items, like Bucky had seen Steve wear. But there was one draw with a few expensive watches, cufflinks that Bucky assumed were high end, ties, even a pair of dog tags. Bucky couldn’t read them, but he didn’t want to pick them up and disturb the drawer. Instead he moved on, running his hand over the bed and toward the bedside drawer. 

There was some cologne that Bucky couldn’t help but spray and of course it smelled so good he had to put it on himself. 

There was a diary too, this week’s page dog eared.

Steve’s neat scrawl didn’t really mention many work obligations, but there were a lot of birthdays and anniversaries noted. 

Bucky found Steve’s own birthday scribbled in on July 4th…  _ Wow _ . He really was Mr America.

Bucky put the things back and went upstairs. He thought about going into the office but honestly, the studio seemed like it would be far more interesting.

Once again Bucky ran his fingers over the collection of books, more records, the little plants he didn’t know the names of. Behind Steve’s drawing table were stacks of large unsealed envelopes that bucky opened to pull out sketches, drawings, watercolours. Scenes of the city, the sea, people’s faces or studies of hands and backs and… a few nudes.

Bucky flicked through the sketchbooks enamoured by the drawings of children, flowers, fresh fruit and random shapes.

Some of the sketchbooks were thick and wrinkled with cuts of material stuck to the page or dried flowers and leaves taped down between drawings of them. It was a little awkward to pin the pages open with one hand when some of the sketchbooks were so heavy with dried paint but Bucky couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t stop looking.

At one point Bucky came across another envelope marked  _ B _ on the outside, but before he could shimmy it open, he heard a set of keys landing on the kitchen counter, and shoes on the tiles.

Bucky put down the envelope and made his way downstairs to find Steve sipping coffee and pouring through the fridge.

“Hey.” Bucky smiled.

“Good afternoon,” Steve smiled, “Did you eat yet?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Shall I plate you some up?”

“Yes please,”

Today’s lunch was another of Sharon;s prepped meals, some deliciously cooked salmon with some marinated vegetable salad. 

While they ate, Steve asked if Bucky was getting used to his new phone and Bucky admitted that he’d honestly forgotten all about it.

“I’m the same.” Steve laughed. “There are some days I wish I could just leave the house without it… but of course, being in demand comes with the job.”

“People lived without them once…” Bucky said.

“Exactly!” Steve took another large bite of his dish. “But you don’t want to see Nat when I forget to reply to an email.” Steve gave a frightened look and Bucky laughed. “You better check if she’s text you.”

Bucky shrugged and said he would do it later, that he had been keeping himself busy in the den.

“Oh really?” Steve asked. “You make more progress with that book?”

“Some… but then I found some drawings.”

Steve’s face went pale and he swallowed his food quickly.

“What drawings?”

“The ones in those envelopes, and the watercolours… Steve, they’re incredible.”

Steve seemed to relax a little, his suddenly straight back hunched somewhat.

“Oh those… Some are from college, when I was studying art and thinking of going on to art school.”

“I’d love to ask you about some of them. Are you free this afternoon?”

Steve frowned. “Sure.” He mumbled. 

As they made their way back up to the studio, Bucky excitedly leading the way, Steve reminded him that he didn’t have to wait for Steve to eat.

“Honestly, just help yourself. Or order in, there's always cash in my bureau…”

“I would,” Bucky laughed, “But I have no clue how to cook and I’m not a fan of eating alone.”

“I get that,” Steve said.

“Maybe now that I’m here and I have the time I could learn… maybe I could ask Sharon for some tips.”

“I’m sure she has some great starter recipes, my kitchen is your kitchen…”

“You’re not worried about getting food poisoning?”

“I never said I would sample the experiments.”

Bucky laughed and Steve followed him over to the mess Bucky realised he had made. He began putting the papers back into piles.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, “I guess I must have just got carried away...”

“It’s alright,” Steve said, putting a hand gently over Bucky’s arm which was rushing to tidy the space.

Both men paused for a moment at the contact and Bucky looked up at Steve's face, his cheeks a little red and when their eyes met he pulled away.   
Bucky pointed out a few paintings and sketches that Steve had done and Steve explained some of his choices with colours and techniques. He mentioned artists that Bucky had never heard of and influential styles that Bucky was clueless to. But Steve just smiled at Bucky’s blank expressions and said, “Maybe you could learn to draw too.”

“Maybe… but I could never be this good. I’d have to have a seriously patient teacher.”

“I’ve been known to be pretty patient.” Steve said which made Bucky grin.

After a while of looking at Steve’s work, the conversation was quiet for a moment, and then Bucky got up.

Steve followed him with his eyes and Bucky moved to stand by a shelf. He pointed to a photo.

“Is that your parents?”

Steve didn’t need to see the picture to know the one Bucky was gesturing to. It was a photo of his parents together before Steve was born, young and unmarried. 

“Yes,” Steve nodded, and he stood to join Bucky anyway.

“And this is you?” Bucky pointed at the photo beside it, Steve’s mother and father with a baby boy, very small and blond, his blue eyes bright.

Steve nodded. “I was maybe… one or two.”

Bucky reached past the other photos, the ones of adult Steve with friends (he assumed) and Nat and even Tony Stark who he recognised from the news and magazines. He picked up the framed photo of Steve laughing, a brunette beside him, their arms around each other and the woman laughing too, her face turned to Steve.

“Your ex…?” Bucky asked, hesitantly.

Steve smiled, taking the photo out of Bucky’s hand and putting it back on the shelf.

“Peggy,” Steve said quietly and moved to perch on the arm of the sofa.

“You miss her?” Bucky asked softly.

Steve hesitated. “Sometimes… she’s married now, with a kid… I miss…” Steve couldn’t exactly find the words.

“Having a trusty sidekick?” Bucky joked and Steve laughed too.

“A partner.” Steve corrected.

For some reason this made Bucky sad. Why did he care if Steve was lonely? He had everything a person could ever want… but perhaps it meant nothing if he had no one to enjoy it with.

Bucky didn’t look up at Steve, just turned away from him and ran his hand over the upright piano that sat in the corner, facing into the room. There was a wide stool and Bucky sat on it, facing Steve. 

“Can you play?” Steve asked. 

Bucky had to laugh at that, he wanted to say  _ ‘of course not, I’m a one-armed rent boy.’ _ But instead he just shook his head and thumbed over the stacks of sheet music, alongside more photos and trinkets that Bucky wished he knew the history of. It must be lovely, he thought, to have so many things, but not  _ just things _ , meaningful and sentimental objects that had history and stories. 

Bucky turned his body around then to see Steve watching him patiently. 

“Would you play?”

“I... I haven’t since my mother passed.” Steve looked down at his hands.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky said.

Steve made a gesture as if to brush away Bucky’s words. “That was years ago… she used to ask me to play for her all the time. Right up until the end. I hated it growing up. I just wanted to draw and read my books and my comics but the lessons were paid for and my mother really wanted me to have some kind of instrumental skill. Once I had a grasp on it we used to play together, side by side.”

Steve gave a weak smile. 

“Would you play something for me?” Bucky asked. 

Steve looked up and their eyes met. Bucky’s pale grey eyes stared up at him from under his lashes. 

Steve sighed, unsure, he ran his hands over his thighs. 

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Bucky said. “I’m sorry.” 

Bucky looked down. Steve had shared something so personal and sad with him, and in his awkward discomfort he’d simply asked if Steve could play something. Could he be any more thoughtless? He chastised himself. He thought of his own mother and how he could barely remember her face and sometimes wondered if that woman was his mother at all. And why would Steve want to share this with anyone, especially him when it was clearly a large part of their relationship?

But Steve stood. “It’s ok… I can play.”

Bucky stood and moved over to the couch, freeing up the stool for Steve. Steve sat, his body now half facing Bucky, half away, so Bucky could only see the one side of his face. His expression was blank and Steve ran his fingers over the off-white keys. He stretched, like all pianists seemed to do and then turned to give Bucky a small smile. 

“Please forgive me, I’m rusty.”

Bucky just returned the smile and waited patiently. If Steve could only play one thing, that would be impressive to Bucky. 

Steve took a breath and tapped a few of the keys. Then his foot found the peddle and he lined up his fingers to form some notes. His smile grew a little and he said, “Is this what you’re hoping for?”

He began to play the first few most recognisable notes of Fur Elise by Beethoven. He couldn’t see Bucky but his eyes were wide, his mouth open, and immediately taken with the familiar melody. Then, keeping it simple and trying to remember some of the pieces he knew, Steve moved into Gymnopedie No.1 by Erik Satie and then Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at the overused wedding song. 

He couldn’t pull his eyes from Steve, the way his long fingers moved and his biceps seemed even more prominent, his shirt tight around them. 

Steve turned to look toward Bucky, and grinned before jumping into The Entertainer by Scott Joplin, Heart and Soul by Carmichael & Loesser and then Jingle Bells, before leading into the world famous intro to Vanessa Carlton’s A Thousand Miles, and then finishing off with a little snippet of Don’t Stop Believing by Journey. By this point Bucky was laughing, a wide grin plastered on his face, both impressed and entertained. 

Steve cringed a little at himself at the overplayed tunes. 

Bucky couldn’t help but adore the way Steve smiled as he played, the way he frowned to look down at his hands each time he changed arrangement, nodding when he had it and turning his ear slightly to the keys to check he was playing the right notes. 

His fingers slowed and he lifted them off the keys. Bucky was speechless. He recognised all of it and even though he knew it was probably stuff that every pianist knew, he was still so impressed. 

Steve laughed and blushed and gave Bucky a look as if to question why he was so thrilled. 

“If I had two hands I’d clap,” he said and shaking his head Steve laughed too. 

“Maybe something different... Forgive me…” Steve turned back towards the keys and wiggled his fingers before setting them down to begin. But Bucky wanted so badly to shake his head and say that he hoped Steve got the notes wrong, so he could start again and play over and over while Bucky watched. 

Steve began playing Questa Notte by Ludovico Einaudi. Bucky didn’t recognise it, but he was immediately taken with the way Steve’s face became more serious as he concentrated. The notes began gentle and light, then Steve paused. 

“I would usually use the book,” His eyes moved to the sheet music above him, “but this was one of mom’s favourites, I’m sure I know it.” 

He began again, playing the same soft notes, repeating them almost at different speeds. Then he paused and the piece continued a little faster. 

Bucky had no idea why but the piece made him think of rain, falling against a window and pattering against the sidewalk. It made him think of lying awake under the stars. 

Then the piece changed again, faster, with menacing low notes and quick high notes that made Bucky think of running. 

Steve bit his lip as the melody became faster and then it stopped, Steve lifted his arms in the air a little and then dropped back down, to start the slow gentle notes again. The piece seemed to build and build and each time Bucky was floored by the sheer emotion that passed Steve’s face. What began as concentration turned almost pained and haunted. Finally it ended and he taped the last few keys and put his hands in his lap. 

Steve was silent and Bucky watched him, his eyes closed. Bucky stood and came to join Steve, the presence of his body alerting Steve to look up and move over on the stool. They were just able to both fit on it. 

“That was beautiful.” Bucky said, and it was all he could say, he had no other words. He looked down at the empty keys where Steve’s hands had been just moments ago, filling the room with so much beautiful sound.

Then Bucky turned to his left to see Steve, so close now, his upper arm pressed against Bucky’s side. 

Steve looked up too and their eyes met, his bright blues shiny with tears, but none escaped and he searched Bucky’s face. 

Bucky couldn’t help but let his gaze flicker down to Steve lips, they were so plump and even more red from where Steve had bit into them as he concentrated on the piano. 

Bucky suddenly felt that seducing Steve wasn’t exactly just a game plan anymore or a tactic. He wasn’t trying to comfort Steve for his own self-preservation, but just because...  _ he wanted to _ . 

Steve was so smart and kind and talented and this man, who could be with whoever he wanted... was here with him, treating Bucky like an actual guest in his home and not an inconvenience to take care of. 

Bucky just wanted to be near him, to watch him, forever, if he could. And hoped that even if it was just the smallest fragment, that some of Steve’s goodness might rub off onto him. 

Bucky was struggling to look away from those lips and looking back into Steve’s eyes was almost worse. Steve gave a weak smile. 

“Your mother must have been so proud. She must have been so happy, even in her last days, to have you by her side.”

Without a thought, Bucky reached out to trace his finger over Steve’s cheek and down his jaw. 

Steve’s neck and ears flushed and Bucky almost felt that strange deja vu again... As if he’d been here before, with Steve, this close. 

Had he? Steve remembered him from somewhere but… surely not like this?

Like gravity, Bucky couldn’t help but lean toward Steve, their lips brushed gently and his eyes closed. 

Steve didn’t move, Bucky waited for him to pull away but then his mouth opened and his lips moved with Bucky’s. The kisses were gentle and testing, neither man brave enough to push further. Steve pulled back, smiling and asked, “are you wearing my cologne?”

Bucky just laughed, blushing and looked away. But Steve moved back toward him, his eyes flicking from Bucky’s eyes back to his lips before he lightly kissed him again. 

It was perhaps the first time in his life that Bucky was kissing someone out of choice and not out of necessity or sheer force. 

A lot of clients didn’t bother with kissing, preferring to skip straight to the action. Maybe they’d bite or lick but kissing was rare, at least soft, slow kissing. Kissing with just the intention to kiss and nothing more. And Bucky didn’t feel his body recoiling, or shutting down on itself. He felt…  _ good _ . 

He didn’t want to block it out like he always tried so hard to... he wanted to feel everything, all of it: The perfect pressure that Steve applied to his mouth, the way his head tilted a little to make sure their noses didn’t collide. Bucky felt like he was fourteen again, like a teenager, a virgin and every part of him wanted to reach out to Steve, to be near him and know him. 

Bucky’s breathing heightened and he moved his hand to press against Steve’s thigh. It was out of instinct but he hoped it showed Steve that he was fine with touching, with doing what they were doing. 

But it seemed to remind Steve of what was actually happening, that he was  _ kissing Bucky _ . A man who was essentially his hostage. Granted Steve hadn’t done the kidnapping or the holding him against his will. If Bucky wanted to leave Steve would give him a plane ticket and a credit card and let him go. But he was safer here. Better to get Bucky free, so he never had to run. 

That being said, he still felt suddenly guilty, and even without the sudden _“Ahem,”_ from behind them, Steve would have pulled away. 

Both men stopped and found Nat standing in the doorway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favourite chapters to write. I would love it if you would let me know what you thought!  
> [Here is a little compilation video, similar to what Steve played Bucky.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRKRewJlyuk)  
> And here is [Questa Notte by Ludovico Einaudi,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKbqKX2-okc) quite possibly one of my favourite pieces of piano music ever.  
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Eight - April 2019

“Apologies boss, something came up that I urgently needed to discuss.” Nat explained, nodding and then leaving Steve and Bucky alone again.

“Excuse me,” Steve said politely, and hastily got up to follow Nat.

Alone, Bucky thought about the kiss. How it had been so much easier than he’d expected. He had thought that if Steve had tried to touch him he might have flinched or pushed him away like he did before. Not on purpose, but through his own trained self-preservation. But he hadn’t.

Bucky thought about his regular clients, how the ones that did kiss were sloppy, fast, aggressive. They weren’t kissing Bucky, they were kissing what he was. A thing, a toy, an object they could use and mould to their every desire. He was whoever they wanted him to be and the kisses were just a prelude to whatever he had coming his way that night, and no kisses likely meant it would be worse. 

People that wanted to kiss picked people up in bars or went on dates. They didn’t seek out people like Bucky. He wasn’t just a rent boy, he was a product, he didn’t have a pimp, he had a prison guard. The rich elites who sought HYDRA out had already burned through sex workers and prostitutes. They weren’t seeking intimacy, they wanted something they could hurt, something they could more than fuck, something they could own for a night or a day or maybe two but not for long. Because it wasn’t beautiful or meaningful. Bucky wasn’t worth the leather they tied him up with, and he knew that. 

But Bucky had wanted to kiss Steve. Somewhere under all of that fear, something had burned hotter, and it had risen above the fear. And he was overjoyed that when he had kissed Steve, Steve didn’t pull away, even if he did look slightly regretful when they had been caught. He had returned the kiss, and not only was Bucky happy that his plan was working, but that kissing Steve was _nice_.

*

Nat and Steve disappeared into the office and Bucky didn’t see Steve again until dinner.

Bucky decided to heed Steve’s wishes and attempt to make dinner himself. 

Luckily when Steve was setting up Bucky’s phone he had connected it to some kind of _cloud_ which meant Bucky already had a bunch of contacts in his phone.

He called Sharon who was extremely helpful and when he asked for her advice on how to learn to cook, laughing and playing along when Sharon asked if he was still living like his college days, she then suggested he take a look at some of Steve’s recipe books in the apartment and maybe try baking first as you could assemble everything then just pop it in the oven. 

“Maybe have a rummage through Steve’s cupboards. There's more than likely a few packet mixes in there.” Bucky wasn't totally sure what they were but he figured they sounded good.

After chatting with her Bucky couldn’t help but hope a little that his plan or Steve’s plan worked. Any plan that meant he could stay friends with Sharon as she truly did seem incredibly smart and lovely, and her food was just divine. 

While the casserole was warming up in the oven, Bucky managed to find one of those packet mixes for brownies. The oven was already on and the entire process was pretty easy until he had to attempt to crack an egg one handed. Luckily, he also figured out google which gave him some good advice on this as well as how to get the shell out of the bowl.

In a few steps the batter was mixed, in a tray and in the oven. He couldn’t help but do a little skip of excitement when he asked his phone to set a timer for him and it actually did! He’d seen other people and people on tv talk into their phones but he always doubted it was that simple.

Who was he? Making dinner, baking, doing little excited skips over his new phone?! He’d never felt so relaxed in his life. He wasn’t used to the continuous good feeling he was experiencing and suddenly a dread washed over him at the realisation that it couldn’t last. He desperately hoped that the brownies turned out OK and that Steve liked them and that it would bring him one step closer to liking Bucky.

Bucky then sat and read while he waited for everything in the oven to finish, so that he could discuss his book later with Steve. Now that he was a few chapters in it was starting to get a bit more interesting, the main character Bella had just been saved by the strange Edward from an oncoming van… as interesting a read as it was, Bucky couldn’t quite understand why Steve had dubbed it _An American Classic_ … Still, he kept going with it until his phone timer went off.

The brownies smelled incredible and as Bucky pulled them from the oven Steve and Nat came down the stairs.

“I’m sorry I’ve got to run,” Nat smiled at Bucky, “Have a good evening, boys.” And like that she was gone in a blur of red hair.

“You’re baking?” Steve’s face immediately lit up at the sight of Bucky placing the brownie tin on the counter.

“I may have cut a few corners, and called Sharon _but…_ they look good to me, don’t you think? Not bad for a first try.” Bucky gave Steve a smug smile.

“Not bad at all.” He agreed.

“And!” Bucky went back into the oven. It was a little trickier pulling the casserole out of the oven now that he was wearing the oven mit but he took his time. 

“Let me help,” Steve said, moving to stand beside Bucky, tea towel at the ready and gently helped him place it on the counter top.

“Thanks…” Bucky mumbled. As much as he wanted to do it, he knew he needed a little help, especially if they didn’t want to see their dinner served up on the kitchen floor. 

“I can’t believe you did all this.” Steve put his hands on his hips and stepped back a little from where he’d been close to Bucky’s side.

“You said I shouldn’t wait for you… and I mean it was a team effort.” Bucky smiled again. 

“This is amazing.” Steve grinned.

Bucky loved how impressed and thankful Steve was at the gestures, even though they were so small. 

They ate quietly, both making polite comments about how good the food tasted. It was clear to Bucky that Steve wasn’t going to bring up the kiss and although Steve didn’t seem awkward, he did appear to keep his distance a little. 

Steve relaxed more when Bucky said, “I’m enjoying the characters I suppose but I don’t get what’s so groundbreaking.”

Steve stifled a giggle and cleared his throat. “You’re not far enough in yet… trust me the story really picks up later.”

Bucky shrugged and after they were done and their plates cleared away Bucky asked if Steve wanted to watch a movie. 

Steve contemplated it for a moment but agreed and the pair laughed their way through one comedy and debated starting another. 

“You’re not tired?” Steve asked, “It’s getting kind of late…”

Bucky looked away, tapping his knee with one finger. 

“I don’t… find it easy to sleep alone so… I’ll probably just stay here for a while…”

“Is the room ok?” 

“The room is perfect Steve. Everything here is great. But… I’ve never had my own space before and I know sometimes I don’t say much but I’m also not so used to the silence.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean I can’t remember the last time I properly slept alone without other people in the room. That’s all. I have nightmares a lot and I’m used to it. Really, it’s not a problem, I can watch more Will Ferrell until I pass out.”

Steve had an idea. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, that he would give Bucky the wrong impression. He didn’t want to do anything that made Bucky think he should fall back into his HYDRA work ways… but at the same time, Steve just wanted to comfort Bucky. The more time he spent with him, the easier it felt. Just like before. 

Then Steve was saying, “Do you want to sleep in my bed? This isn’t a come on. Just sleep.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. With me. But I have work tomorrow so I’m going to turn in soon.”

“Yes.” Bucky nodded. 

“Alright then…” Steve squeezed his thighs awkwardly then got up and left the sitting room. 

Bucky sat still for a moment then jumped up and jogged to his own bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and changed into a more comfortable pair of sweatpants. 

He knocked quietly on Steve’s door then entered. 

Steve was in a shirt and boxers and gave Bucky a polite smile when he entered the room. 

Bucky climbed into the giant bed, on the side he’d woken up on the morning after Steve had brought him home. 

Bucky couldn’t help but feel that now would be the perfect time to make a move but clearly, one kiss was enough for Steve for one day and Bucky wanted Steve to like him, rather than just want to fuck him. 

The sheets smelled of Steve and Bucky was unsure why he liked that so much. 

He made himself comfortable beside Steve and turned away to sleep when Steve put the light out. 

“Goodnight Steve.” Bucky said quietly, so quiet he thought that maybe Steve hadn’t heard him. 

Then Steve said into the silence: “Night, Buck.”

*

That night Bucky slept almost peacefully. 

Steve’s gentle shifting beside him and the cloud like pillows lulled Bucky into a welcome slumber. 

Rather than his usual night terrors, Bucky’s dreams were filled with Brooklyn. The red brick terrace houses and the huge, sharp apartment buildings of public housing. 

The sounds of the cars on the street, the bustle of people on the sidewalk, moving in and out of the local cafes, parks, boutique stores, the different feel of each neighbourhood. 

Bucky dreamed of back alley after back alley, past chain link fences, dumpsters and fire escapes he searched for something… someone. 

Then he was back home… a place he didn’t recognise but… his dream told him, _as dreams often did,_ that it was his home, his place, not technically owned by anyone but theirs for now. A woman slept on the couch before him. 

“Mom…” Bucky heard himself say. “What did you take? Mom?” He got up and rolled her into her side. She was cold and floppy but she groaned at the disturbance. 

“Bucky…” she mumbled, “Is that you?”

Her light hair was still pinned up but matted from where she’d been sleeping. 

“You’re such a good boy Bucky… my good boy…” She tried to open her eyes but sleep overcame her. 

Bucky climbed onto the couch beside her and curled up close, stroking her hair. He did this when she cried sometimes and she thought he couldn’t hear her. 

Her body felt more warm now and her breathing was different to how he remembered. After a while her body changed, and Bucky pressed his face between a large pair of shoulder blades… Winnie had gone… and Bucky was somewhere else…

“Bucky?” A quiet voice came from the body.

But all Bucky could think was _Mom, Mom, Mom… Don’t go…_

“Bucky… Buck…” the voice was louder now. 

Bucky’s eyes opened to find himself pressed up against Steve. He was lying on his stump that ached a little and his right arm was tightly wrapped around Steve’s waist. 

Bucky quickly rolled away. His face was wet, the back of Steve’s shirt was wet and Bucky didn’t want Steve to think Bucky had been trying to touch him in his sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, pressing his face into the pillow and slowing his breaths. 

He could hear and feel Steve sitting up beside him. 

“It’s ok…” Steve said hesitantly. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Bucky tried to remember his dream then… the woman… she had been his mother… Was it really her? A memory? Or just a dream playing tricks on him?

“No…” Was all Bucky could say. 

“You kept saying Winnie…” 

Bucky rolled onto his back so that he could look at Steve again, and Steve looked down at him, leaning a little closer when Bucky spoke. 

“I think… I think I was remembering my mother… she was… in my dream…” Bucky whispered as if saying the words too loud would puncture the memory, exploding it into a thousand pieces that Bucky could never recall again. 

“I thought I’d forgotten her…” Bucky stared up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for… y’know…” Bucky glanced at Steve. 

“You’ve got quite the arm on you… I thought I was getting murdered by a python,”

This made Bucky smile a little and without thinking, Steve reached down and brushed some hair from Bucky’s face. 

At first, Steve had been a little uncomfortable with the spooning. Once again, he didn’t trust himself around Bucky… even if Bucky wanted to kiss him, even sleep with him, Steve just didn’t think it was right. Not while he was here and still technically working for HYDRA. Until Steve had managed to do something about S.H.I.E.L.D, he just couldn’t let himself get too close to Bucky. Bucky was here against his own free will and even if Bucky said _yes_ , in Steve’s opinion it wasn’t consent. Not really. Because Bucky really had no choice. 

_No…_ he had to keep his distance. 

But still. It didn’t stop him from wanting, so badly, and in his selfishness he’d already had a kiss, enjoyed Bucky’s body against his without waking him for at least an hour until Bucky started crying. And now, he let himself touch Bucky without thinking. He’d just wanted to comfort but how could he begin to comfort someone so clearly hurt and confused. Bucky deserved better and needed actual, professional help. He pulled his hand away and got up. 

“Steve…” Bucky said, worried, he wanted to say, _don’t go_ … but Steve paused anyway. 

“Let me get you some coffee and breakfast,”

Bucky hesitated but nodded. 

Steve left the room and Bucky watched the rain falling outside. For most of the night, the sleep had been deep and calm, but this morning's dreams had Bucky’s mind in a twist. 

The droplets hit hard against the window and Bucky almost wanted to go and stand in it, out on the balcony. Some fresh air, he dedicated, might actually do him good. 

He got up, went to his room and found more clothes and some shoes. 

He passed Steve in the kitchen who was mixing some kind of batter and when he asked Bucky if he was alright, Bucky simply responded. “I’m fine. Thanks. Can I go outside?”

Steve gave a confused look.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask.” Steve came over to Bucky at the window and unlatched the sliding door that led out onto the balcony. 

Bucky could feel Steve’s eyes on him from the kitchen but he didn’t care. He knew he should have brushed off the feeling, pressed it down and swallowed it like he did with all the others. He had to be hard, strong, a wall. That way, nothing and no one could ever hurt you. He needed to smile and lighten up and not waste a moment with Steve, working on his plan. 

But as the rain slowed and dropped small random droplets onto his head, he couldn’t shake the face of the woman, the feeling of familiarity. Was it possible that he was actually remembering? And why did it have to happen now?

Bucky watched the clouds and whispered the name _Winnie_. Then Mom, then Winnie, then Mom again. It felt natural. 

Bucky pulled at the left side of his hoodie. He hadn’t been bothered to try to pull up the zip and simply tugged the jumper around himself tighter to shelter from the cool breeze. 

Looking out over the landscape helped. Deep breaths of fresh air helped and Steve arriving with a coffee helped too. 

Occasionally a raindrop would fall into his mug but Bucky didn’t mind. He just stood with Steve on the balcony, taking in the day.

After a while Steve said, “You don’t have to. But if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Bucky nodded.

“Do you want breakfast? I was going to make waffles again… you seemed to enjoy them last time.”

Bucky nodded again and followed Steve into the warm kitchen to sit and dry off while Steve moved about, so quietly and delicately for someone so big. He plated up a stack of hot waffles and presented Bucky with his usual array of toppings. 

“Be careful with this one,” Steve joked as he handed over the can of whipped cream. 

Bucky gave a small smile. 

Steve began to walk towards the stairs. 

“You’re not eating?” Bucky asked. 

“I will after I work out. I’ve left it a few days too long.”

“Ok…” Bucky nodded. 

“Enjoy your breakfast,” Steve smiled and Bucky was left alone. 

He decided to take it into the sitting room and enjoy it with Leslie Knope and he did find that the distraction lightened his mood. He also thought about Steve upstairs exercising, trying not to think about his huge muscles. But then also considered that some exercise himself might help clear his head. He shrugged, right now he was full of waffles and in need of a shower. 

*

Later that day after Steve had set about work Bucky decided to read for a while in the den. He liked the way the rain sounded on the skylights and it was soothing. 

His mind wandered from New York in his dreams to Forks, Washington and after a while he’d forgotten all about it until his stomach growled and he realised he was hungry again. The afternoon had snuck up on him and me knocked on Steve’s open office door to say he was making lunch and would Steve want any. 

Steve said that would be delightful and once again the pair sat, looking out at the rain on the city below. 

“I’ve almost finished that book,”

“You like it?” Steve smiled. 

“I don’t know if it’s really my thing… But I’ll finish it.”

“There’s 3 more in the series.”

“Yeah… I don’t know if I’m up for that but… I’d like to read some of the other things you recommended.”

Steve smiled. “Well I have read a lot. But you don’t have to read it because I recommended it.”

Bucky shrugged, “What else am I going to do cooped up here like Rapunzel?”

Steve laughed. “With that hair you could make a go of it.”

“Ha. Ha.” Bucky glared but smiled too. 

“We can hang out this afternoon if you want?”

“I want…” Bucky smirked and raised his eyebrows and Steve blushed. 

“I just have a few more emails to send and I’m all yours…”

Bucky grinned and Steve realised what he’d said and blushed harder, getting up and turning away to put his dishes in the washer. 

“You’re really walking into them now Stevie…” Bucky laughed and was glad that from what he could see of Steve’s face he was smiling a little. 

Alone in the kitchen again, Bucky decided to try and figure out his laptop and new phone more. A small part of him was starting to think that maybe Steve’s plan was the best, and he should simply let it happen, because if he could actually get free of S.H.I.E.L.D and HYDRA, perhaps he could find his mother again. 

He was becoming more sure that it was a memory and not just a dream. But that realisation made him extremely sad. 

And once again he’d let himself get his hopes up only for them to possibly be crushed. No. He had to stick to his own plan and take care of himself. Staying here with Steve paying HYDRA would be safer. 

The whole situation made Bucky anxious. He needed a proper distraction. 

He thought again about the day before, Steve playing the piano, all those different songs and melodies. It had reminded Bucky of a song he liked, one he’d come across on Josef’s iPod. 

At first he’d skipped it. It was a slow piano track with a young man's voice over the top, the kind of song Bucky would never actually openly admit to listening to on repeat on a sad night. But if he could just find some piano notes, maybe he could ask Steve to play it.

Bucky pulled open his new laptop, navigated to Google like he’d heard so many people talk about before, and searched ‘ _Someone You Loved’._ He assumed that was the title.

The first search result was for a song of that title by an artist named Lewis Capaldi on YouTube.

Bucky put in his headphones, clicked the link and began to watch. The video started with the sound of a heartbeat, then the piano notes Bucky recognised.

The song was just as he remembered, only now, was he able to hear it played over a short music video. The story was incredibly sad, a man mourning the loss of his wife, but content in the knowledge that in her passing, her healthy heart had saved another life. By the end, Bucky’s eyes were wet again. Not just from the sad video but the feeling associated with hearing that song and being back in his room at HYDRA.

He wiped a tear, cleared his throat and went straight to Google. He typed in the artist and title along with piano sheet music and sure enough, he was able to find a website with just the music and no lyrics, posted by someone called Pianella Piano. Bucky wondered if Steve would recognise it, but for some reason, Bucky didn’t really care.

Maybe he was a cold hard shell on the outside with most people, but he couldn’t be like that with Steve… and Steve was so kind, he didn’t want to be.

Steve had watched him cry this morning. Steve didn’t coddle him or shame him, he was just there, like a friend.

Now that he had the music, he had to figure out how to get it in front of Steve.

There was an option on the page that said print but Bucky wasn’t sure if his laptop could do that. He picked up his phone and called Steve.

“Hello?” A confused voice answered after a few rings.

“Hey, do we have a printer?”

“Are you calling me from the kitchen?”

“Yes…” Bucky couldn’t figure out why that mattered. “Do you have a printer? Can I print on my laptop?”

“What are you printing?” 

“Is that your business?”

Steve had to laugh. “Ok. Yes. I have a printer, let me turn it on.”

After five minutes of Steve explaining how Bucky could connect his laptop to the printer via Bluetooth, Bucky’s documents were printing and he jogged up the stairs to meet Steve in his office. 

Bucky stepped through the door and Steve did nothing but point at the machine behind him and to the left.

Bucky moved around Steve’s desk and picked up the papers that were being expelled. 

Then Bucky sat leaning on the desk beside Steve, a little closer than Steve would have liked. 

“Hi Bucky,” Steve laughed. 

“Hi Steve,” Bucky gave his best relaxed smile and refused to break eye contact. 

Meanwhile, Steve looked away awkwardly, locking his computer and shuffling in his chair a little. 

“Do you want to hang out now?” Bucky asked. 

Steve smiled. “Sure.” 

“Great. Can you play this for me?” 

Bucky handed Steve the sheet music and Steve squinted at it. 

“On the piano,” Bucky clarified. “It’s a song I like…”

“Alright then,” Steve nodded and Bucky took Steve’s hand and led him to the piano in the studio.

This took Steve a little off guard and he wanted to pull back but the piano wasn’t far, Bucky would let go soon. Too soon, really. 

Steve tried to hide his smile. 

Steve sat at the piano and Bucky made himself comfortable on the couch. Steve set up the sheets and began playing. He didn’t recognise the title or the melody. He thought that perhaps it was a modern song, he hardly listened to the radio these days. 

Occasionally he would pause and hum out the notes to check he was reading them right. He was rusty at this and then he took a deep breath and began to play the piece fully. 

Bucky watched as Steve worked through it. It was instantly recognisable to Bucky and he could hear the lyrics in his mind. 

_Another day bleeds, into nightfall_

_And you’re not here, to get me through it all_

_I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug_

_I was getting kind of used to being someone you loved_

This version was slightly different to the actual piano in the original song and Bucky loved that. Steve had to spread his arms up and down the keys to hit every one and once again Bucky was in awe. 

In this moment Steve was so epically beautiful and it was a struggle not to get up and wrap his arm around his waist, pull him close and feel his lips. 

Steve, who clearly didn’t know it was a sad song, smiled a little as he played. The piece had a ballad nature about it, but it was pretty too. 

Bucky’s eyes began to water at how this song… a song that he had sometimes searched for to distract him from a terrible night was now being played here in such a lovely place by such a lovely, talented person. 

The piece ended and both men let the silence fill up the room again. 

“What did you think?” Steve asked when he saw Bucky’s red-rimmed eyes. 

“Amazing.” Bucky smiled. “You’re amazing.” And Bucky couldn’t help himself, he stood up, paced over to Steve and kissed him again. A fast, hot kiss on the mouth. Bucky’s hand closed around Steve’s collar and pulled him in closer and then let go. Remembering that Steve was so unsure about all of this and clearly holding back, even though he liked Bucky. 

So when they were apart, Bucky moved to sit back on the couch and Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, biting his bright red lips he stammered some kind of sentence along the lines, “Well I hope it was what you hoped it would be.”

“I’m so grateful.” Bucky said, and he hated how much it sounded like a HYDRA fed line but it was the truth. Steve just nodded. 

“Um… well…”

“Perhaps… I could do something for you now? As you did something for me?”

“Bucky…” Steve said wearily. 

“I didn’t mean like that!” Bucky laughed. “I could… dance for you?” Bucky stood and moved toward a bookcase, “Read to you?”

Bucky was using his seduction voice now. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to. Steve hadn’t exactly pulled away from that kiss and it had left Bucky just as hot and bothered as it had left Steve. 

Steve’s face was now a picture, blank and pale, his mouth open a little, his eyes fixed on Bucky.

“Can I… draw you?”

“Draw me?”

“Yes…” Steve was blushing again now, realising himself and what he was saying. “Pose for me?”

“I can keep my clothes on?” Bucky was trying to sound coy but he would have happily stripped for Steve just for the fun of watching him combust. 

“Yes. Of course… I didn’t mean-” Steve stammered. 

Bucky laughed. “I know. I know what you meant. And yes, I will.”

Steve smiled then, his shoulders relaxing somewhat and getting up hastily to move over to his desk. 

Steve pulled out fresh paper and a set of pencils and Bucky now suddenly felt like the vulnerable one. He sat still, unsure how to pose. 

“Is this ok?” He asked Steve.

“Just sit comfortably…” Steve said, “A little closer?”

Bucky moved to the end of the couch closest Steve and leaned his arm against the armrest. 

“That’s great.” Steve said and began putting pencil to the page. 

*

They sat quietly for a while. 

Bucky watching Steve, his brows furrowed at the page and his deep blue eyes that would every so often look up, drink Bucky in and then look back down again. 

“I should have got a book before we started,” 

“Bored already are we?”

“Just a little,”

“I’m almost finished.”

“Thank God,” Bucky pretended to whine, “I’m not getting any younger.”

“Come and look,” Steve laughed. 

And sure enough, there Bucky was, his face in black and white on the paper. 

It was his profile, down to his shoulders, close and posing neutrally. He didn’t look ugly or angry as he’d imagined, his features looked soft. 

“How is it fair that you get all the talent?”

Steve shook his head. 

“You have the beauty.”

“Well of course but… it’ll fade and then what?”

“It won’t.”

“It will. It already has. I don’t look half as good now as I did when I was eighteen,”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Can I show you something else?”

“Better than this?” Bucky pointed at the picture of himself, “This is hard to beat.”

Steve just got up and looked through the collection of sketches he’d kept, found the envelope that Bucky recognised from when he was snooping before, marked with a B, then sat down beside Bucky on the couch. 

Steve opened the envelope and pulled out a sketch of a young man. It took Bucky a few moments, and if he didn’t have the sketch of himself in his hand he might not have seen the resemblance between the two. 

“Is this… _me_?”

The boy was young, sat at a table, smiling up from a milkshake. Two hands were wrapped around the cup. 

“It is. But… I did it from memory so it’s not perfect.”

“It’s… wait…”

Steve had pulled another sketch out, a similar looking Bucky sat on a subway train, another just of Bucky’s profile in shadows. 

“Steve… they’re all me?”

Steve hesitated. “Yes. I understand if this makes you uncomfortable.”

At the bottom of each sketch was a little note

_Bucky at the diner_

_James Buchanan Barnes_

_Bucky under the bleachers - 03_

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Uncomfortable wasn’t the word… shocked maybe. 

“I shouldn’t have shown you these.” Steve began. “Oh shit, Buck. I’m so sorry if you want to leave. I can find somewhere else for you to stay, I must look like such a stalker.” Steve got up and paced by the piano, his face red and pained. 

“No. Wait. Steve, sit down,” Bucky said quietly. 

Steve followed the orders. 

“You’ve had these? Kept them after all these years?”

“I figured if I kept drawing you, I would remember your face and one day, if I ever saw you again…”

Both Bucky and Steve looked up at each other. Bucky’s eyes were wet and on the verge of tears, Steve’s were wide like a deer in headlights. 

Bucky looked back at the picture, running his finger over the milkshake in Bucky’s hand. Why could he taste strawberry ice cream?

“Steve… you knew me…”

“Only briefly. But I suppose I did.”

“You… wanted to remember me… to have me in your life?”

Steve bit his lip. 

“I thought you were awesome. I… would have followed you anywhere.”

“You liked me…?”

It was a question but Bucky’s tone was flat. 

“Of course I did... I do…”

Bucky turned to Steve then, their faces so close.

“You can have me, Steve.” Bucky whispered. “Have me. I want you to… _please…_ ”

“Bucky…”

Bucky raised his hand to Steve’s jaw again, palming his cheek and Steve closed his eyes for just a moment. It felt so wonderful. Why couldn’t it be different?

Steve reached for Bucky’s wrist and pulled his hand away.

“Bucky I… I just want to be your friend. Please. Just let me be your friend.”

Bucky felt flattened. It wasn’t a total rejection but somehow it still hurt. 

“I need… I…” 

But Bucky couldn’t finish. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew was that he was standing, sketch of himself in hand, pacing back downstairs and locking himself in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your listening pleasure: [Piano version of Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eT5muWj8rKI)... Can you just imagine how incredible Steve would look playing this ?!  
> Once again thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment! <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please let me know and I can write/post more! If anyone would like to discuss ideas about this fic or just ship stucky with me, please message me here or at [@deletexforever](https://deletexforever.tumblr.com/post/641588834257289216) on Tumblr. <3


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